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XI  E>  RAR.Y 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

Of    ILLINOIS 


I88Z 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://www.archive.org/details/unknowntohistory01yong 


UNKNOWN   TO   HISTOKY 


Poor  scape-goat  of  crimes,  where,— her  part  what  it  may, 

So  tortured,  so  hunted  to  die, 

Foul  age  of  deceit  and  of  hate,— on  her  head 

Least  stains  of  gore-guiltiness  lie ; 

To  the  hearts  of  the  just  her  blood  from  the  dust 

Not  in  vain  for  mercy  will  cry. 

Poor  scape-goat  of  nations  and  faiths  in  their  strife 

So  cruel,— and  thou  so  fair  ! 

Poor  girl !— so,  best,  in  her  misery  named, — 

Discrown'd  of  two  kingdoms,  and  bare  ; 

Not  first  nor  last  on  this  one  was  cast 

The  burden  that  others  should  share. 

Visions  of  England,  by  F.  T.  Palgrave. 


UNKNOWN   TO   HISTOKY 


A  STOEY  OF  THE 
CAPTIVITY  OF  MARY  OF  SCOTLAND 


BY 

CHARLOTTE  M.  YONGE 


VOL.  I. 


Honticm 

MACMILLAN  AND  CO. 

1882 


Printed  by  R.   &  R.   Clark,  Edinburgh. 


$£3 

IT.  I 


PREFACE 


In  p.  58  of  vol.  ii.  of  the  second  edition  of  Miss 
Strickland's  Life  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  or  p.  100, 
vol.  v.  of  Burton's  History  of  Scotland,  will  be  found 
the  report  on  which  this  tale  is  founded. 

If  circumstances  regarding  the  Queen's  captivity 
and  Babington's  plot  have  been  found  to  be  omitted, 
as  well  as  many  interesting  personages  in  the  suite  of 
the  captive  Queen,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the 
art  of  the  story-teller  makes  it  needful  to  curtail 
t^  some  of  the  incidents  which  would  render  the  nar- 
rative too  complicated  to  be  interesting  to  those  who 
wish  more  for  a  view  of  noted  characters  in  remark- 
able situations,  than  for  a  minute  and  accurate  sifting 


of  facts  and  evidence. 


C.  M.  YONGE. 


February  27,  188i 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.   I. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAfiE 

The  Little  Waif 1 


CHAPTER  II. 
Evil  Tidings 17 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Captive 33 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Oak  and  the  Oaken  Hall  '  .         .         .46 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Huckstering  Woman 61 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Bewitched  Whistle 72 


V1U  CONTEXTS. 

CHAPTER  VII 

PAGE 

The  Blast  of  the  Whistle 81 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Key  of  the  Cipher 97 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Unquiet 105 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Lady  Arbell  .         .         .         .  .118 

CHAPTER  XL 
Queen  Mary's  Presence  Chamber    .         .         .         .126 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  Furious  Letter  141 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Beads  and  Bracelets 153 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Monograms 165 

CHAPTER  XV 
Mother  and  Child .178 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

PAGE 

The  Peak  Cavern 200 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  Ebbing  Well 222 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Cis  or  Sister 243 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Clash  of  Swords       .         .         .         .         .         .256 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Wingfield  Manor 274 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
A  Tangle 290 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Tutbury  .  302 


UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY. 

CHAPTEE  I. 

THE    LITTLE    WAIF. 

Ox  a  spring  day,  in  the  year  1568,  Mistress  Talbot  sat 
in  lier  lodging  at  Hull,  an  upper  chamber,  with  a  large 
latticed  window,  glazed  with  the  circle  and  diamond 
leading  perpetuated  in  Dutch  pictures,  and  opening  on 
a  carved  balcony,  whence,  had  she  been  so  minded,  she 
could  have  shaken  hands  with  her  opposite  neighbour. 
There  was  a  richly  carved  mantel-piece,  with  a  sea-coal 
fire  burning  in  it,  for  though  it  was  May,  the  sea 
winds  blew  cold,  and  there  was  a  fishy  odour  about 
the  town,  such  as  it  was  well  to  counteract.  The  floor 
was  of  slippery  polished  oak,  the  walls  hung  with 
leather,  gilded  in  some  places  and  depending  from 
cornices,  whose  ornaments  proved  to  an  initiated  eye, 
that  this  had  once  been  the  refectory  of  a  small  priory, 
or  cell,  broken  up  at  the  Eeformation. 

Of  furniture  there  was  not  much,  only  an  open 
cupboard,  displaying  two  silver  cups  and  tankards,  a 
sauce -pan  of  the  same  metal,  a  few  tall,  slender, 
Venetian  glasses,  a  little  pewter,  and  some  rare  shells. 
A  few  high -backed   chairs  were  ranged  against  the 


VOL.  I. 


S 


2  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

wall;  there  was  a  tall  "  armory/'  i.e.  a  linen-press  of  dark 
oak,  guarded  on  each  side  by  the  twisted  weapons  of 
the  sea  unicorn,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room  stood 
a  large,  solid-looking  table,  adorned  with  a  brown 
earthenware  beau-pot,  containing  a  stiff  posy  of  roses, 
southernwood,  gillyflowers,  pinks  and  pansies,  of 
small  dimensions.  On  hooks,  against  the  wall,  hung  a 
pair  of  spurs,  a  shield,  a  breastplate,  and  other  pieces 
of  armour,  with  an  open  helmet  bearing  the  dog,  the 
well-known  crest  of  the  Talbots  of  the  Shrewsbury  line. 

On  the  polished  floor,  near  the  window,  were  a 
child's  cart,  a  little  boat,  some  whelks  and  limpets. 
Their  owner,  a  stout  boy  of  three  years  old,  in  a  tight, 
borderless, round  cap,and  home-spun, madder-dyed  frock, 
lay  fast  asleep  in  a  big  wooden  cradle,  scarcely  large 
enough,  however,  to  contain  him,  as  he  lay  curled  up, 
sucking  his  thumb,  and  hugging  to  his  breast  the  soft 
fragment  of  a  sea-bird's  downy  breast.  If  he  stirred,  his 
mother's  foot  was  on  the  rocker,  as  she  sat  spinning, 
but  her  spindle  danced  languidly  on  the  floor,  as  if 
"feeble  was  her  hand,  and  silly  her  thread;"  while  she 
listened  anxiously  for  every  sound  in  the  street  below. 
She  wore  a  dark  blue  dress,  with  a  small  lace  ruff 
opening  in  front,  deep  cuffs  to  match,  and  a  white  apron 
likewise  edged  with  lace,  and  a  coif,  bent  down  in  the 
centre,  over  a  sweet  countenance,  matronly,  though 
youthful,  and  now  full  of  wistful  expectancy,  not 
untinged  with  anxiety  and  sorrow. 

Susan  Hardwicke  was  a  distant  kinswoman  of 
the  famous  Bess  of  Hardwicke,  and  had  formed  one 
of  the  little  court  of  gentlewomen  with  whom  great 
ladies  were  wont  to  surround  themselves.  There  she 
met  Eichard  Talbot,  the  second  son  of  a  relative  of  the 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  a  young  man  who,  with  the  in- 


1.1  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  3 

difference  of  those  days  to  service  by  land  or  sea,  had 
been  at  one  time  a  gentleman  pensioner  of  Queen 
Mary ;  at  another  had  sailed  under  some  of  the  great 
mariners  of  the  western  main.  There  he  had  acquired 
substance  enough  to  make  the  offer  of  his  hand  to  the 
dowerless  Susan  no  great  imprudence ;  and  as  neither 
could  be  a  subject  for  ambitious  plans,  no  obstacle 
was  raised  to  their  wedding. 

He  took  his  wife  home  to  his  old  father's  house  in 
the  precincts  of  Sheffield  Park,  where  she  was  kindly 
welcomed ;  but  wealth  did  not  so  abound  in  the  family 
but  that,  when  opportunity  offered,  he  was  thankful 
to  accept  the  command  of  the  Mastiff,  a  vessel  com- 
missioned by  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  built,  manned,  and 
maintained  at  the  expense  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury. 
It  formed  part  of  a  small  squadron  which  was  cruising 
on  the  eastern  coast  to  watch  over  the  intercourse 
between  France  and  Scotland,  whether  in  the  interest 
of  the  imprisoned  Mary,  or  of  the  Lords  of  the  Congre- 
gation. He  had  obtained  lodgings  for  Mistress  Susan 
at  Hull,  so  that  he  might  be  with  her  when  he  put 
into  harbour,  and  she  was  expecting  him  for  the  first 
time  since  the  loss  of  their  second  child,  a  daughter 
whom  he  had  scarcely  seen  during  her  little  life  of  a 
few  months. 

Moreover,  there  had  been  a  sharp  storm  a  few  days 
previously,  and  experience  had  not  hardened  her  to 
the  anxieties  of  a  sailor's  wife.  She  had  been  down 
once  already  to  the  quay,  and  learnt  all  that  the  old 
sailors  could  tell  her  of  chances  and  conjectures ;  and 
when  her  boy  began  to  fret  from  hunger  and  weariness, 
she  had  left  her  serving -man,  Gervas,  to  watch  for 
further  tidings.  Yet,  so  does  one  trouble  drive  out 
another,  that  whereas  she  had  a  few  days  ago  dreaded 


4  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

the  sorrow  of  his  return,  she  would  now  have  given 
worlds  to  hear  his  step. 

Hark,  what  is  that  in  the  street  ?  Oh,  folly  !  If 
the  Mastiff  were  in,  would  not  Gervas  have  long  ago 
brought  her  the  tidings  ?  Should  she  look  over  the  bal- 
cony only  to  be  disappointed  again  ?  Ah !  she  had  been 
prudent,  for  the  sounds  were  dying  away.  Nay,  there 
was  a  foot  at  the  door !  Gervas  with  ill  news  !  No, 
no,  it  bounded  as  never  did  Gervas's  step !  It  was 
coming  up.  She  started  from  the  chair,  quivering  with 
eagerness,  as  the  door  opened  and  in  hurried  her  sun- 
tanned sailor !  She  was  in  his  arms  in  a  trance  of 
joy.  That  was  all  she  knew  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
it  was  as  if  something  else  were  given  back  to  her. 
No,  it  was  not  a  dream !  It  was  substance.  In  her 
arms  was  a  little  swaddled  baby,  in  her  ears  its  feeble 
wail,  mingled  with  the  glad  shout  of  little  Humfrey,  as 
he  scrambled  from  the  cradle  to  be  uplifted  in  his 
father's  arms. 

"What  is  this?"  she  asked,  gazing  at  the  infant 
between  terror  and  tenderness,  as  its  weak  cry  and 
exhausted  state  forcibly  recalled  the  last  hours  of  her 
own  child. 

"  It  is  the  only  thing  we  could  save  from  a  wreck 
off  the  Spurn,"  said  her  husband.  "  Scottish  as  I  take 
it.  The  rogues  seem  to  have  taken  to  their  boats, 
leaving  behind  them  a  poor  woman  and  her  child.  I 
trust  they  met  their  deserts  and  were  swamped.  We 
saw  the  fluttering  of  her  coats  as  we  made  for  the 
Humber,  and  I  sent  Goatley  and  Jaques  in  the  boat 
to  see  if  anything  lived.  The  poor  wench  was  gone 
before  they  could  lift  her  up,  but  the  little  one 
cried  lustily,  though  it  has  waxen  weaker  since.  We  had 
no  milk  on  board,  and  could  only  give  it  bits  of  soft 


I.]  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  5 

bread  soaked  in  beer,  and  I  misdoubt  me  whether  it 
did  not  all  run  out  at  the  corners  of  its  mouth." 

This  was  interspersed  with  little  Humfrey's  eager 
outcries  that  little  sister  was  come  again,  and  Mrs. 
Talbot,  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks,  hastened  to 
summon  her  one  woman-servant,  Colet,  to  bring  the 
porringer  of  milk. 

Captain  Talbot  had  only  hurried  ashore  to  bring 
the  infant,  and  show  himself  to  his  wife.  He  was 
forced  instantly  to  return  to  the  wharf,  but  he  pro- 
mised to  come  back  as  soon  as  he  should  have  taken 
order  for  his  men,  and  for  the  Mastiff,  which  had 
suffered  considerably  in  the  storm,  and  would  need  to 
be  refitted. 

Colet  hastily  put  a  manchet  of  fresh  bread,  a  pasty, 
and  a  stoup  of  wine  into  a  basket,  and  sent  it  by  her 
husband,  Gervas,  after  their  master  ;  and  then  eagerly 
assisted  her  mistress  in  coaxing  the  infant  to  swallow 
food,  and  in  removing  the  soaked  swaddling  clothes 
which  the  captain  and  his  crew  had  not  dared  to 
meddle  with. 

When  Captain  Talbot  returned,  as  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  glanced  high  on  the  roofs  and  chimneys, 
little  Humfrey  stood  peeping  through  the  tracery  of 
the  balcony,  watching  for  him,  and  shrieking  with  joy 
at  the  first  glimpse  of  the  sea-bird's  feather  in  his  cap. 
The  spotless  home-spun  cloth  and  the  trenchers  were 
laid  for  supper,  a  festive  capon  was  prepared  by  the 
choicest  skill  of  Mistress  Susan,  and  the  little  ship- 
wrecked stranger  lay  fast  asleep  in  the  cradle. 

All  was  well  with  it  now,  Mrs.  Talbot  said.  Nothing 
had  ailed  it  but  cold  and  hunger,  and  when  it  had 
been  fed,  warmed,  and  dressed,  it  had  fallen  sweetly 
asleep  in  her  arms,  appeasing  her  heartache  for  her 


6  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

own  little  Sue,  while  Humfrey  Mly  believed  that 
father  had  brought  his  little  sister  back  again. 

The  child  was  in  truth  a  girl,  apparently  three  or 
four  months  old.  She  had  been  rolled  up  in  Mrs. 
Talbot's  baby's  clothes,  and  her  own  long  swaddling 
bands  hung  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  where  they  had 
been  dried  before  the  fire.  They  were  of  the  finest 
woollen  below,  and  cambric  above,  and  the  outermost 
were  edged  with  lace,  whose  quality  Mrs.  Talbot  esti- 
mated very  highly. 

"  See,"  she  added,  "  what  we  found  within.  A 
Popish  relic,  is  it  not  ?  Colet  and  Mistress  Gale  were 
for  making  away  with  it  at  once,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  it  was  a  token  whereby  the  poor  babe's  friends  may 
know  her  again,  if  she  have  any  kindred  not  lost  at  sea." 

The  token  was  a  small  gold  cross,  of  peculiar  work- 
manship, with  a  crystal  in  the  middle,  through  which 
might  be  seen  some  mysterious  object  neither  husband 
nor  wife  could  make  out,  but  which  they  agreed  must 
be  carefully  preserved  for  the  identification  of  their 
little  waif.  Mrs.  Talbot  also  produced  a  strip  of  writing 
which  she  had  found  sewn  to  the  inmost  band  wrapped 
round  the  little  body,  but  it  had  no  superscription,  and 
she  believed  it  to  be  either  French,  Latin,  or  High 
Dutch,  for  she  could  make  nothing  of  it.  Indeed,  the 
good  lady's  education  had  only  included  reading,  writ- 
ing, needlework  and  cookery,  and  she  knew  no  language 
but  her  own.  Her  husband  had  been  taught  Latin, 
but  his  acquaintance  with  modern  tongues  was  of 
the  nautical  order,  and  entirely  oral  and  vernacular. 
However,  it  enabled  him  to  aver  that  the  letter — if 
such  it  were — was  neither  Scottish,  French,  Spanish, 
nor  High  or  Low  Dutch.  He  looked  at  it  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  shook  his  head  over  it. 


l]  the  little  waif.  7 

"Who  can  read  it  for  us?"  asked  Mrs.  Talbot. 
"  Shall  we  ask  Master  Heatherthwayte  ?  he  is  a  scholar, 
and  he  said  he  would  look  in  to  see  how  you  fared." 

"At  supper -time,  I  trow/'  said  Kichard,  rather 
grimly,  "  the  smell  of  thy  stew  will  bring  him  down 
in  good  time." 

"  Nay,  dear  sir,  I  thought  you  would  be  fain  to  see 
the  good  man,  and  he  lives  but  poorly  in  his  garret." 

"  Scarce  while  he  hath  good  wives  like  thee  to  boil 
his  pot  for  him,"  said  Richard,  smiling.  "Tell  me, 
hath  he  heard  aught  of  this  gear?  thou  hast  not  laid 
this  scroll  before  him  ?" 

"No,  Colet  brought  it  to  me  only  now,  having 
found  it  when  washing  the  swaddling-bands,  stitched 
into  one  of  them." 

"  Then  hark  thee,  good  wife,  not  one  word  to  him 
of  the  writing." 

"  Might  he  not  interpret  it  ?" 

"  Not  he  !  I  must  know  more  about  it  ere  I  let  it 
pass  forth  from  mine  hands,  or  any  strange  eye  fall 
upon  it — Ha,  in  good  time!  I  hear  his  step  on  the  stair." 

The  captain  hastily  rolled  up  the  scroll  and  put  it 
into  his  pouch,  while  Mistress  Susan  felt  as  if  she  had 
made  a  mistake  in  her  hospitality,  yet  almost  as  if  her 
husband  were  unjust  towards  the  good  man  who  had 
been  such  a  comfort  to  her  in  her  sorrow;  but  there 
was  no  lack  of  cordiality  or  courtesy  in  Pdchard's 
manner  when,  after  a  short,  quick  knock,  there  en- 
tered a  figure  in  hat,  cassock,  gown,  and  bands,  with  a 
pleasant,  though  grave  countenance,  the  complexion 
showing  that  it  had  been  tanned  and  sunburnt  in 
early  youth,  although  it  wore  later  traces  of  a  sedentary 
student  life,  and,  it  might  be,  of  less  genial  living  than 
had  nourished  the  up-growthof  that  sturdily-built  frame. 


8  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Master  Joseph  Heatherthwayte  was  the  greatly 
underpaid  curate  of  a  small  parish  on  the  outskirts  of 
Hull.  He  contrived  to  live  on  some  £10  per  annum  in 
the  attic  of  the  house  where  the  Talbots  lodged, — and 
not  only  to  live,  but  to  be  full  of  charitable  deeds,  mostly 
at  the  expense  of  his  own  appetite.  The  square  cut  of 
his  bands,  and  the  uncompromising  roundness  of  the  hat 
which  he  doffed  on  his  entrance,  marked  him  as  inclined 
to  the  Puritan  party,  which,  being  that  of  apparent  pro- 
gress, attracted  most  of  the  ardent  spirits  of  the  time. 

Captain  Talbot's  inclinations  did  not  lie  that  way, 
but  he  respected  and  liked  his  fellow-lodger,  and  his 
vexation  had  been  merely  the  momentary  disinclina- 
tion of  a  man  to  be  interrupted,  especially  on  his  first 
evening  at  home.  He  responded  heartily  to  Master 
Heatherthwayte's  warm  pressure  of  the  hand  and 
piously  expressed  congratulation  on  his  safety,  mixed 
with  condolence  on  the  grief  that  had  befallen  him. 

"  And  you  have  been  a  good  friend  to  my  poor 
wife  in  her  sorrow,"  said  Eichard,  "for  the  which  I 
thank  you  heartily,  sir." 

"Truly,  sir,  I  could  have  been  her  scholar,  with 
such  edifying  resignation  did  she  submit  to  the  dis- 
pensation," returned  the  clergyman,  uttering  these  long 
words  in  a  broad  northern  accent  which  had  nothing 
incongruous  in  it  to  Eichard's  ears,  and  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  lady's  absence  on  "  hospitable  tasks  intent " 
to  speak  in  her  praise. 

Little  Humfrey,  on  his  father's  knee,  comprehend- 
ing that  they  were  speaking  of  the  recent  sorrow,  put 
in  his  piece  of  information  that  "  father  had  brought 
little  sister  back  from  the  sea." 

"  Ah,  child !"  said  Master  Heatherthwayte,  in  the 
ponderous  tone  of  one  unused  to  children,  "thou  hast 


l]  the  little  waif.  9 

yet  to  learn  the  words  of  the  holy  David,  '  I  shall  go 
to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me.'  " 

"  Bring  not  that  thought  forward,  Master  Heather- 
thwayte,"  said  Eichard,  "  I  am  well  pleased  that  my 
poor  wife  and  this  little  lad  can  take  the  poor  little 
one  as  a  solace  sent  them  by  God,  as  she  assuredly  is." 

"Mean  you,  then,  to  adopt  her  into  your  family?" 
asked  the  minister. 

"  We  know  not  if  she  hath  any  kin,"  said  Eichard, 
and  at  that  moment  Susan  entered,  followed  by  the 
man  and  maid,  each  bearing  a  portion  of  the  meal, 
which  was  consumed  by  the  captain  and  the  clergy- 
man as  thoroughly  hungry  men  eat ;  and  there  was 
silence  till  the  capon's  bones  were  bare  and  two  large 
tankards  had  been  filled  with  Xeres  sack,  captured  in  a 
Spanish  ship,  "  the  only  good  thing  that  ever  came 
from  Spain,"  quoth  the  sailor. 

Then  he  began  to  tell  how  he  had  weathered  the 
storm  on  the  Berwickshire  coast;  but  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  another  knock,  followed  by  the  entrance  of 
a  small,  pale,  spare  man,  with  the  lightest  possible 
hair,  very  short,  and  almost  invisible  eyebrows ;  he 
had  a  round  ruff  round  his  neck,  and  a  black,  scholarly 
"own,  belted  round  his  waist  with  a  edrdle.  in  which 

CD  '  O  ' 

he  carried  writing  tools. 

"  Ha,  Cuthbert  Langston,  art  thou  there  ? "  said  the 
captain,  rising.  "  Thou  art  kindly  welcome.  Sit  down 
and  crush  a  cup  of  sack  with  Master  Heatherthwayte 
and  me." 

"  Thanks,  cousin,"  returned  the  visitor,  "  I  heard 
that  the  Mastiff  was  come  in,  and  I  came  to  see 
whether  all  was  well." 

"  It  was  kindly  done,  lad,"  said  Eichard,  while  the 
others  did  their  part  of  the  welcome,  though  scarcely 


10  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP, 

so  willingly.  Cuthbert  Langston  was  a  distant  relation 
on  the  mother's  side  of  Eichard,  a  young  scholar  who, 
after  his  education  at  Oxford,  had  gone  abroad  with  a 
nobleman's  son  as  his  pupil,  and  on  his  return,  instead 
of  taking  Holy  Orders,  as  was  expected,  had  obtained 
employment  in  a  merchant's  counting-house  at  Hull, 
for  which  his  knowledge  of  languages  eminently  fitted 
him.  Though  he  possessed  none  of  the  noble  blood  of 
the  Talbots,  the  employment  was  thought  by  Mistress 
Susan  somewhat  derogatory  to  the  family  dignity,  and 
there  was  a  strong  suspicion  both  in  her  mind  and 
that  of  Master  Heather thwayte  that  his  change  of 
purpose  was  due  to  the  change  of  religion  in  England, 
although  he  was  a  perfectly  regular  church-goer. 
Captain  Talbot,  however,  laughed  at  all  this,  and, 
though  he  had  not  much  in  common  with  his  kinsman, 
always  treated  him  in  a  cousinly  fashion.  He  too  had 
heard  a  rumour  of  the  foundling,  and  made  inquiry  for 
it,  upon  which  Eichard  told  his  story  in  greater  detail, 
and  his  wife  asked  what  the  poor  mother  was  like. 

"  I  saw  her  not,"  he  answered,  "  but  Goatley 
thought  the  poor  woman  to  whom  she  was  bound 
more  like  to  be  nurse  than  mother,  judging  by  her 
years  and  her  garments." 

"  The  mother  may  have  been  washed  off  before,"  said 
Susan,  lifting  the  little  one  from  the  cradle,  and  hushing 
it.  "  Weep  not,  poor  babe,  thou  hast  found  a  mother  here." 

"  Saw  you  no  sign  of  the  crew  ? "  asked  Master 
Heatherthwayte. 

"  None  at  all.  The  vessel  I  knew  of  old  as  the 
brig  Bride  of  Duiibar,  one  of  the  craft  that  ply  between 
Dunbar  and  the  French  ports." 

"  And  how  think  you  ?  Were  none  like  to  be  saved? " 

"  I  mean  to  ride  along  the  coast  to-morrow,  to  see 


J.]  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  11 

whether  aught  can  be  heard  of  them,  but  even  if  their 
boats  could  live  in  such  a  sea,  they  would  have  evil 
hap  among  the  wreckers  if  they  came  ashore.  I  would 
not  desire  to  be  a  shipwrecked  man  in  these  parts,  and 
if  I  had  a  Scottish  -or  a  French  tongue  in  my  head  so 
much  the  worse  for  me." 

"  Ah,  Master  Heatherthwayte,"  said  Susan,  "  should 
not  a  man  give  up  the  sea  when  he  is  a  husband  and 
father  ? " 

"  Tush,  dame  !  With  God's  blessing  the  good  ship 
Mastiff  will  ride  out  many  another  such  gale.  Tell 
thy  mother,  little  Numpy,  that  an  English  sailor  is 
worth  a  dozen  French  or  Scottish  lubbers." 

"  Sir,"  said  Master  Heatherthwayte,  "  the  pious  trust 
of  the  former  part  of  your  discourse  is  contradicted  by 
the  boast  of  the  latter  end." 

"  Nay,  Sir  Minister,  what  doth  a  sailor  put  his  trust 
in  but  his  God  foremost,  and  then  his  good  ship  and 
his  brave  men  ?" 

It  should  be  observed  that  all  the  three  men  wore 
their  hats,  and  each  made  a  reverent  gesture  of  touch- 
ing them.  The  clergyman  seemed  satisfied  by  the 
answer,  and  presently  added  that  it  would  be  well,  if 
Master  and  Mistress  Talbot  meant  to  adopt  the  child, 
that  she  should  be  baptized. 

"  How  now  ?"  said  Eichard,  "  we  are  not  so  near  any 
coast  of  Turks  or  Infidels  that  we  should  deem  her 
sprung  of  heathen  folk." 

"Assuredly  not,"  said  Cuthbert  Langston,  whose 
quick,  light-coloured  eyes  had  spied  the  reliquary  in 
Mistress  Susan's  work-basket,  "  if  this  belongs  to  her. 
By  your  leave,  kinswoman,"  and  he  lifted  it  in  his  hand 
with  evident  veneration,  and  began  examining  it. 

"  It  is  Babylonish  gold,  an  accursed  thing  I "  ex- 


12  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

claimed  Master  Heatherthwayte.  "  Beware,  Master 
Talbot,  and  cast  it  from  thee." 

"  Nay,"  said  Eichard,  "  that  shall  I  not  do.  It  may 
lead  to  the  discovery  of  the  child's  kindred.  Why,, 
my  master,  what  harm  think  you  it  will  do  to  us  in 
my  dame's  casket  ?  Or  what  right  have  we  to  make 
away  with  the  little  one's  property  ?" 

His  common  sense  was  equally  far  removed  from 
the  horror  of  the  one  visitor  as  from  the  reverence  of 
the  other,  and  so  it  pleased  neither  Master  Langston 
was  the  first  to  speak,  observing  that  the  relic  made  it 
evident  that  the  child  must  have  been  baptized. 

"  A  Popish  baptism,"  said  Master  Heatherthwayte, 
"  with  chrism  and  taper  and  words  and  gestures  to 
destroy  the  pure  simplicity  of  the  sacrament." 

Controversy  here  seemed  to  be  setting  in,  and  the 
infant  cause  of  it  here  setting  up  a  cry,  Susan  escaped 
under  pretext  of  putting  Humfrey  to  bed  in  the  next 
room,  and  carried  off  both  the  little  ones.  The  con- 
versation then  fell  upon  the  voyage,  and  the  captain 
described  the  impregnable  aspect  of  the  castle  of 
Dumbarton,  which  was  held  for  Queen  Mary  by  her 
faithful  partisan,  Lord  Flemyng.  On  this,  Cuthbert 
Langston  asked  whether  he  had  heard  any  tidings  of 
the  imprisoned  Queen,  and  he  answered  that  it  was  re- 
ported at  Leith  that  she  had  well-nigh  escaped  fromLoch- 
leven,  in  the  disguise  of  a  lavender  or  washerwoman. 
She  was  actually  in  the  boat,  and  about  to  cross  the  lake, 
when  a  rude  oarsman  attempted  to  pull  aside  her  muffler, 
and  the  whiteness  of  the  hand  she  raised  in  self-protec- 
tion betrayed  her,  so  that  she  was  carried  back.  "  If  she 
had  reached  Dumbarton,"  he  said,  "she  might  have 
mocked  at  the  Lords  of  the  Congregation.  Nay,  she 
might  have  been  in  that  very  brig,  whose  wreck  I  beheld." 


I.]  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  13 

"  And  well  would  it  have  been  for  Scotland  and 
England  had  it  been  the  will  of  Heaven  that  so  it 
should  fall  out,"  observed  the  Puritan. 

"  Or  it  may  be/'  said  the  merchant,  "  that  the  poor 
lady's  escape  was  frustrated  by  Providence,  that  she 
might  be  saved  from  the  rocks  of  the  Spurn." 

"  The  poor  lady,  truly  !  Say  rather  the  murtheress," 
quoth  Heatherthwayte. 

"  Say  rather  the  victim  and  scapegoat  of  other 
men's  plots,"  protested  Langston. 

"  Come,  come,  sirs,"  says  Talbot,  "  we'll  have  no 
high  words  here  on  what  Heaven  only  knoweth.  Poor 
lady  she  is,  in  all  sooth,  if  sackless ;  poorer  still  if 
guilty ;  so  I  know  not  what  matter  there  is  for  falling 
out  about.  In  any  sort,  I  will  not  have  it  at  my 
table."  He  spoke  with  the  authority  of  the  captain  of  a 
ship,  and  the  two  visitors,  scarce  knowing  it,  submitted 
to  his  decision  of  manner,  but  the  harmony  of  the  even- 
ing seemed  ended.  Cuthbert  Langston  soon  rose  to  bid 
good-night,  first  asking  his  cousin  at  what  hour  he 
proposed  to  set  forth  for  the  Spurn,  to  which  Eichard 
briefly  replied  that  it  depended  on  what  had  to  be 
done  as  to  the  repairs  of  the  ship. 

The  clergyman  tarried  behind  him  to  say,  "Master  Tal- 
bot, I  marvel  that  so  godly  a  man  as  you  have  ever  been 
should  be  willing  to  harbour  one  so  popishly  affected, 
and  whom  many  suspect  of  being  a  seminary  priest." 

"Master  Heatherthwayte,"  returned  the  captain, 
iC  my  kinsman  is  my  kinsman,  and  my  house  is  my 
house.      No  offence,  sir,  but  I  brook  not  meddling." 

The  clergyman  protested  that  no  offence  was  in- 
tended, only  caution,  and  betook  himself  to  his  own 
bare  chamber,  high  above.  No  sooner  was  he  gone 
than   Captain   Talbot   again   became   absorbed  in  the 


14 


UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY. 


[CHAP. 


endeavour  to  spell  out  the  mystery  of  the  scroll,  with 
his  elbows  on  the  table  and  his  hands  over  his  ears,  nor 
did  he  look  up  till  he  was  touched  by  his  wife,  when 
he  uttered  an  impatient  demand  what  she  wanted  now. 
She  had  the  little  waif  in  her  arms  undressed,  and 
with  only  a  woollen  coverlet  loosely  wrapped  round 
her,  and  without   speaking   she  pointed  to  the  little 


shoulder-blades, 


where    two    marks- 


had  been  indelibly  made — on   one  side  the  crowned 
monogram  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  on  the  other  a  device 


like  the  Labarum, 


* 
x 


only  that  the  up- 


right was  surmounted  by  a  fleur-de-lis. 

Eicharcl  Talbot  gave  a  sort  of  perplexed  grunt  of 
annoyance  to  acknowledge  that  he  saw  them. 

"  Poor  little  maid !  how  could  they  be  so  cruel  ? 
They  have  been  branded  with  a  hot  iron,"  said  the 
lady. 

"  They  that  parted  from  her  meant  to  know  her 
again,"  returned  Talbot. 

"  Surely  they  are  Popish  marks,"  added  Mistress 
Susan. 

"  Look  you  here,  Dame  Sue,  I  know  you  for  a  dis- 


£.]  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  15 

creet  woman.  Keep  this  gear  to  yourself,  "both  the 
letter  and  the  marks.     Who  hath  seen  them  ?  " 

"  I  doubt  me  whether  even  Colet  has  seen  this  mark." 

"  That  is  well.  Keep  all  out  of  sight.  Many  a 
man  has  been  brought  into  trouble  for  a  less  matter 
swelled  by  prating  tongues." 

"  Have  you  made  it  out  ?  " 

"  Not  I.  It  may  be  only  the  child's  horoscope,  or 
some  old  wife's  charm  that  is  here  sewn  up,  and  these 
marks  may  be  naught  but  some  sailor's  freak ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  they  may  be  concerned  with  perilous 
matter,  so  the  less  said  the  better." 

"  Should  they  not  be  shown  to  my  lord,  or  to  her 
Grace's  Council  ? " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  run  my  head  into  trouble  for  mak- 
ing a  coil  about  what  may  be  naught.  That's  what 
befell  honest  Mark  Walton.  He  thought  he  had  seized 
matter  of  State,  and  went  up  to  Master  Walsingham, 
swelling  like  an  Indian  turkey-cock,  with  his  secret 
letters,  and  behold  they  turned  out  to  be  a  Dutch  fish- 
wife's charm  to  bring  the  herrings.  I  can  tell  you  he 
has  rued  the  work  he  made  about  it  ever  since.  On  the 
other  hand,  let  it  get  abroad  through  yonder  prating  fel- 
low, Heatherthwayte,  or  any  other,  that  Master  Eichard 
Talbot  had  in  his  house  a  child  with,  I  know  not  what 
Popish  tokens,  and  a  scroll  in  an  unknown  tongue,  and 
I  should  be  had  up  in  gyves  for  suspicion  of  treason, 
or  may  be  harbouring  the  Prince  of  Scotland  himself, 
when  it  is  only  some  poor  Scottish  archer's  babe." 

"  You  would  not  have  me  part  with  the  poor  little 
one  ? " 

"  Am  I  a  Turk  or  a  Pagan  ?  No.  Only  hold  thy 
peace,  as  I  shall  hold  mine,  until  such  time  as  I  can 
meet  some  one  whom  I  can  trust  to  read  this  riddle. 


16  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP, 

Tell  me — what  like  is  the  child  ?  Wouldst  guess  it 
to  be  of  gentle,  or  of  clownish  blood,  if  women  can  tell 
such  things  ? " 

"  Of  gentle  blood,  assuredly,"  cried  the  lady,  so  that 
he  smiled  and  said,  "  I  might  have  known  that  so  thou 
wouldst  answer." 

"  Nay,  but  see  her  little  hands  and  fingers,  and  the 
mould  of  her  dainty  limbs.  No  Scottish  fisher  clown 
was  her  father,  I  dare  be  sworn.  Her  skin  is  as  fair 
and  fine  as  my  Humfrey's,  and  moreover  she  has 
always  been  in  hands  that  knew  how  a  babe  should  be 
tended.     Any  woman  can  tell  you  that ! " 

"  And  what  like  is  she  in  your  woman's  eyes  ? 
What  complexion  doth  she  promise  ? " 

"  Her  hair,  what  she  has  of  it,  is  dark ;  her  eyes — 
bless  them — are  of  a  deep  blue,  or  purple,  such  as 
most  babes  have  till  they  take  their  true  tint.  There 
is  no  guessing.  Humfrey's  eyes  were  once  like  to  be 
brown,  now  are  they  as  blue  as  thine  own." 

"  I  understand  all  that,"  said  Captain  Talbot,  smil- 
ing. "  If  she  have  kindred,  they  will  know  her  better 
by  the  sign  manual  on  her  tender  flesh  than  by  her  face." 

"And  who  are  they?" 

"Who  are  they?"  echoed  the  captain,  rolling  up 
the  scroll  in  despair.  "  Here,  take  it,  Susan,  and  keep 
it  safe  from  all  eyes.  Whatever  it  may  be,  it  may 
serve  thereafter  to  prove  her  true  name.  And  above 
all,  not  a  word  or  breath  to  Heatherthwayte,  or  any 
of  thy  gossips,  wear  they  coif  or  bands." 

"  Ah,  sir  !  that  you  will  mistrust  the  good  man." 

"  I  said  not  I  mistrust  any  one ;  only  that  I  will 
have  no  word  of  all  this  go  forth  !  Not  one  !  Thou 
heedest  me,  wife  ? " 

"  Verily  I  do,  sir ;  I  will  be  mute." 


II.]  EVIL  TIDINGS-  17 


CHAPTER  II. 

EVIL    TIDINGS. 

After  giving  orders  for  the  repairs  of  the  Mastiff,  and 
the  disposal  of  her  crew,  Master  Richard  Talbot  pur- 
veyed himself  of  a  horse  at  the  hostel,  and  set  forth 
for  Spurn  Head  to  make  inquiries  along  the  coast 
respecting  the  wreck  of  the  Bride  of  Dunbar,  and  he  was 
joined  by  Cuthbert  Langston,  who  said  his  house  had 
had  dealings  with  her  owners,  and  that  he  must  ascer- 
tain the  fate  of  her  wares.  His  good  lady  remained 
in  charge  of  the  mysterious  little  waif,  over  whom  her 
tender  heart  yearned  more  and  more,  while  her  little 
boy  hovered  about  in  serene  contemplation  of  the 
treasure  he  thought  he  had  recovered.  To  him  the 
babe  seemed  really  his  little  sister ;  to  his  mother,  if 
she  sometimes  awakened  pangs  of  keen  regret,  yet  she 
filled  up  much  of  the  dreary  void  of  the  last  few  weeks. 

Mrs.  Talbot  was  a  quiet,  reserved  woman,  not  prone 
to  gadding  abroad,  and  she  had  made  few  acquaintances 
during  her  sojourn  at  Hull;  but  every  creature  she 
knew,  or  might  have  known,  seemed  to  her  to  drop  in 
that  day,  and  bring  at  least  two  friends  to  inspect  the 
orphan  of  the  wreck,  and  demand  all  particulars. 

The  little  girl  was  clad  in  the  swaddling  garments 
of    Mrs.    Talbot's   own   children,   and   the  mysterious 

vol.  i.  c 


18  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

marks  were  suspected  by  no  one,  far  less  the  letter 
which  Susan,  for  security's  sake,  had  locked  up  in 
her  nearly  empty,  steel-bound,  money  casket.  The 
opinions  of  the  gossips  varied,  some  thinking  the  babe 
might  belong  to  some  of  the  Queen  of  Scotland's  party 
fleeing  to  France,  others  fathering  her  on  the  refugees 
from  the  persecutions  in  Flanders,  a  third  party  believ- 
ing her  a  mere  fisherman's  child,  and  one  lean,  lantern- 
jawed  old  crone,  Mistress  Eotherford,  observing,  "  Take 
my  word,  Mrs.  Talbot,  and  keep  her  not  with  you. 
They  that  are  cast  up  by  the  sea  never  bring  good 
with  them." 

The  court  of  female  inquiry  was  still  sitting  when 
a  heavy  tread  was  heard,  and  Colet  announced  "a 
serving-man  from  Bridgefield  had  ridden  post  haste  to 
speak  with  madam,"  and  the  messenger,  booted  and 
spurred,  with  the  mastiff  badge  on  his  sleeve,  and  the 
hat  he  held  in  his  hand,  followed  closely. 

"What  news,  Nathanael?"  she  asked,  as  she  re- 
sponded to  his  greeting. 

"  111  enough  news,  mistress,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Master  Eichard's  ship  be  in,  they  tell  me." 

"Yea,  but  he  is  rid  out  to  make  inquiry  for  a 
wreck,"  said  the  lady.  "Is  all  well  with  my  good 
father-in-law  ?" 

"  He  ails  less  in  body  than  in  mind,  so  please  you. 
Being  that  Master  Humfrey  was  thrown  by  Blackfoot, 
the  beast  being  scared  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  and 
never  spoke  again." 

"  Master  Humfrey !" 

"  Ay,  mistress.  Pitched  on  his  head  against  the 
south  gate-post.  I  saw  how  it  was  with  him  when  we 
took  him  up,  and  he  never  so  much  as  lifted  an  eyelid, 
but  died  at  the  turn  of  the  night.    Heaven  rest  his  soul  I* 


il]  evil  tidings.  19 

"  Heaven  rest  his  soul !"  echoed  Susan,  and  the 
ladies  around  chimed  in.  They  had  come  for  one  excite- 
ment, and  here  was  another. 

•  There !  See  but  what  I  said ! "  quoth  Mrs. 
Botherford,  uplifting  a  skinny  finger  to  emphasise 
that  the  poor  little  flotsome  had  already  brought  evil. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  portly  wife  of  a  merchant,  "  begging 
your  pardon,  this  may  be  a  fat  instead  of  a  lean  sorrow. 
Leaves  the  poor  gentleman  heirs,  Mrs.  Talbot  ?  " 

"  Oh  no  !"  said  Susan,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  His 
wife  died  two  years  back,  and  her  chrisom  babe  with 
her.  He  loved  her  too  well  to  turn  his  mind  to  wed 
again,  and  now  he  is  with  her  for  aye."  And  she 
covered  her  face  and  sobbed,  regardless  of  the  congratu- 
lations of  the  merchant's  wife,  and  exclaiming,  "  Oh  I 
the  poor  old  lady  !" 

"  In  sooth,  mistress,"  said  Nathanael,  who  had  stood 
all  this  time  as  if  he  had  by  no  means  emptied  his 
budget  of  ill  news,  "  poor  old  madam  fell  down  all  of 
a  heap  on  the  floor,  and  when  the  wenches  lifted  her, 
they  found  she  was  stricken  with  the  dead  palsy,  and 
she  has  not  spoken,  and  there's  no  one  knows  what  to 
do,  for  the  poor  old  squire  is  like  one  distraught,  sit- 
ting by  her  bed  like  an  image  on  a  monument,  with 
the  tears  flowing  down  his  old  cheeks.  '  But,'  says  he 
to  me,  'get  you  to  Hull,  Nat,  and  take  madam's 
palfrey  and  a  couple  of  sumpter  beasts,  and  bring  my 
good  daughter  Talbot  back  with  you  as  fast  as  she  and 
the  babes  may  brook.'  I  made  bold  to  say,  'And 
Master  Eichard,  your  worship  V  then  he  groaned 
somewhat,  and  said,  '  If  my  son's  ship  be  come  in,  he 
must  do  as  her  Grace's  service  permits,  but  meantime 
he  must  spare  us  his  wife,  for  she  is  sorely  needed 
here.'     And  he  looked  at  the  bed  so  as  it  would  break 


20  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

your  heart  to  see,  for  since  old  Nurse  Tooke  hath  been 
doited,  there's  not  been  a  wench  about  the  house  that 
can  do  a  hand's  turn  for  a  sick  body." 

Susan  knew  this  was  true,  for  her  mother-in-law 
had  been  one  of  those  bustling,  managing  housewives, 
who  prefer  doing  everything  themselves  to  training 
others,  and  she  was  appalled  at  the  idea  of  the  prob- 
able desolation  and  helplessness  of  the  bereaved 
household. 

It  was  far  too  late  to  start  that  day,  even  had  her 
husband  been  at  home,  for  the  horses  sent  for  her  had 
to  rest.  The  visitors  would  fain  have  extracted  some 
more  particulars  about  the  old  squire's  age,  his  kindred 
to  the  great  Earl,  and  the  amount  of  estate  to  which 
her  husband  had  become  heir.  There  were  those 
among  them  who  could  not  understand  Susan's  genuine 
grief,  and  there  were  others  whose  consolations  were  no 
less  distressing  to  one  of  her  reserved  character.  She 
made  brief  answer  that  the  squire  was  threescore  and 
fifteen  years  old,  his  wife  nigh  about  his  age ;  that  her 
husband  was  now  their  only  child ;  that  he  was 
descended  from  a  son  of  the  great  Earl  John,  killed  at 
the  Bridge  of  Chatillon;  that  he  held  the  estate  of 
Bridgefield  in  fief  on  tenure  of  military  service  to  the 
head  of  his  family.  She  did  not  know  how  much  it 
was  worth  by  the  year,  but  she  must  pray  the  good 
ladies  to  excuse  her,  as  she  had  many  preparations  to 
make.  Volunteers  to  assist  her  in  packing  her  mails 
were  made,  but  she  declined  them  all,  and  rejoiced 
when  left  alone  with  Colet  to  arrange  for  what  would 
be  probably  her  final  departure  from  Hull. 

It  was  a  blow  to  find  that  she  must  part  from  her 
servant- woman,  who,  as  well  as  her  husband  Gervas,  was 
a  native  of  Hull.     Not  only  were  they  both  unwilling 


II.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  21 

to  leave,  but  the  inland  country  was  to  their  imagination 
a  wild  unexplored  desert.  Indeed,  Colet  had  only 
entered  Mrs.  Talbot's  service  to  supply  the  place  of  a 
maid  who  had  sickened  with  fever  and  ague,  and  had 
to  be  sent  back  to  her  native  Hallamshire. 

Ere  long  Mr.  Heatherthwayte  came  down  to  offer 
his  consolation,  and  still  more  his  advice,  that  the  little 
foundling  should  be  at  once  baptized — conditionally,  if 
the  lady  preferred  it. 

The  Eeformed  of  imperfect  theological  training,  and 
as  such  Joseph  Heatherthwayte  must  be  classed,  were 
apt  to  view  the  ceremonial  of  the  old  baptismal  form, 
symbolical  and  beautiful  as  it  was,  as  almost  destroy- 
ing the  efficacy  of  the  rite.  Moreover,  there  was  a 
further  impression  that  the  Church  by  which  the  child 
was  baptized,  had  a  right  to  bring  it  up,  and  thus  the 
clergyman  was  urgent  with  the  lady  that  she  should 
seize  this  opportunity  for  the  little  one's  baptism. 

"Not  without  my  husband's  consent  and  know- 
ledge," she  said  resolutely. 

"  Master  Talbot  is  a  good  man,  but  somewhat  care- 
less of  sound  doctrine,  as  be  the  most  of  seafaring 
men." 

Susan  had  been  a  little  nettled  by  her  husband's 
implied  belief  that  she  was  influenced  by  the  minister, 
so  there  was  double  resolution,  as  well  as  some  offence 
in  her  reply,  that  she  knew  her  duty  as  a  wife  too  well 
to  consent  to  such  a  thing  without  him.  As  to  his 
being  careless,  he  was  a  true  and  God-fearing  man,  and 
Mr.  Heatherthwayte  should  know  better  than  to  speak 
thus  of  him  to  his  wife. 

Mr.  Heatherthwayte's  real  piety  and  goodness  had 
made  him  a  great  comfort  to  Susan  in  her  lonely  grief, 
but  he  had  not  the  delicate  tact  of  gentle  blood,  and 


22  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

had  not  known  where  to  stop,  and  as  he  stood  half 
apologising  and  half  exhorting,  she  felt  that  her  Bichard 
was  quite  right,  and  that  he  could  be  both  meddling 
and  presuming.  He  was  exceedingly  in  the  way  of 
her  packing  too,  and  she  was  at  her  wit's  end  to  get  rid 
of  him,  when  suddenly  Humfrey  managed  to  pinch  his 
fingers  in  a  box,  and  set  up  such  a  yell,  as,  seconded  by 
the  frightened  baby,  was  more  than  any  masculine  ears 
could  endure,  and  drove  Master  Heatherthwayte  to 
beat  a  retreat. 

Mistress  Susan  was  well  on  in  her  work  when  her 
husband  returned,  and  as  she  expected,  was  greatly 
overcome  by  the  tidings  of  his  brother's  death.  He 
closely  questioned  Nathanael  on  every  detail,  and  could 
think  of  nothing  but  the  happy  days  he  had  shared 
with  his  brother,  and  of  the  grief  of  his  parents.  He 
approved  of  all  that  his  wife  had  done;  and  as  the 
damage  sustained  by  the  Mastiff  could  not  be  repaired 
under  a  month,  he  had  no  doubt  about  leaving  his  crew 
in  the  charge  of  his  lieutenant  while  he  took  his  family 
home. 

So  busy  were  both,  and  so  full  of  needful  cares,  the 
one  in  giving  up  her  lodging,  the  other  in  leaving  his 
men,  that  it  was  impossible  to  inquire  into  the  result 
of  his  researches,  for  the  captain  was  in  that  mood  of 
suppressed  grief  and  vehement  haste  in  which  irrele- 
vant inquiry  is  perfectly  unbearable. 

It  was  not  till  late  in  the  evening  that  Eichard 
told  his  wife  of  his  want  of  success  in  his  investiga- 
tions. He  had  found  witnesses  of  the  destruction  of 
the  ship,  but  he  did  not  give  them  full  credit.  "  The 
fellows  say  the  ship  drove  on  the  rock,  and  that  they 
saw  her  boats  go  down  with  every  soul  on  board,  and 
that  they  would   not  lie   to  an  officer  of  her  Grace. 


il]  evil  tidings.  23 

Heaven  pardon  me  if  I  do  them  injustice  in  believing 
they  would  lie  to  him  sooner  than  to  any  one  else. 
They  are  rogues  enough  to  take  good  care  that  no  poor 
wretch  should  survive  even  if  he  did  chance  to  come 
to  land." 

"  Then  if  there  be  no  one  to  claim  her,  we  may 
bring  up  as  our  own  the  sweet  babe  whom  Heaven 
hath  sent  us." 

"  Not  so  fast,  dame.  Thou  wert  wont  to  be  more 
discreet.  I  said  not  so,  but  for  the  nonce,  till  I  can 
come  by  the  rights  of  that  scroll,  there's  no  need  to 
make  a  coil.  Let  no  one  know  of  it,  or  of  the  trinket 
— Thou  hast  them  safe  ? " 

"  Laid  up  with  the  Indian  gold  chain,  thy  wedding 
gift,  dear  sir." 

"  'Tis  well.  My  mother ! — ah  me,"  he  added, 
catching  himself  up;  "  little  like  is  she  to  ask  questions, 
poor  soul." 

Then  Susan  diffidently  told  of  Master  Heather- 
thwayte's  earnest  wish  to  christen  the  child,  and,  what 
certainly  biassed  her  a  good  deal,  the  suggestion  that 
this  would  secure  her  to  their  own  religion. 

"  There  is  something  in  that,"  said  Eichard, 
"  specially  after  what  Cuthbert  said  as  to  the  golden 
toy  yonder.  If  times  changed  again — which  Heaven 
forfend — that  fellow  might  give  us  trouble  about  the 
matter." 

"  You  doubt  him  then,  sir !"  she  asked. 

"  I  relished  not  his  ways  on  our  ride  to-day,"  said 
Eichard.  "  Sure  I  am  that  he  had  some  secret  cause 
for  being  so  curious  about  the  wreck.  I  suspect  him 
of  some  secret  commerce  with  the  Queen  of  Scots'  folk." 

"  Yet  you  were  on  his  side  against  Mr.  Heather- 
thwayte,"  said  Susan. 


24  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  I  would  not  have  my  kinsman  browbeaten  at 
mine  own  table  by  the  self-conceited  son  of  a  dalesman, 
even  if  lie  have  got  a  round  hat  and  Geneva  band  I 
Ah,  well !  one  good  thing  is  we  shall  leave  both  of 
them  well  behind  us,  though  I  would  it  were  for 
another  cause." 

Something  in  the  remonstrance  had,  however,  so 
worked  on  Eichard  Talbot,  that  before  morning  he 
declared  that,  hap  what  hap,  if  he  and  his  wife  were  to 
bring  up  the  child,  she  should  be  made  a  good  Pro- 
testant Christian  before  they  left  the  house,  and  there 
should  be  no  more  ado  about  it. 

It  was  altogether  illogical  and  untheological ;  but 
Master  Heatherthwayte  was  delighted  when  in  the 
very  early  morning  his  devotions  were  interrupted,  and 
he  was  summoned  by  the  captain  himself  to  christen 
the  child. 

Eichard  and  his  wife  were  sponsors,  but  the  ques- 
tion of  name  had  never  occurred  to  any  one.  However, 
in  the  pause  of  perplexity,  when  the  response  lagged 
to  "  Name  this  child,"  little  Humfrey,  a  delighted 
spectator,  broke  out  again  with  "  Little  Sis." 

And  forthwith,  "  Cicely,  if  thou  art  not  already 
baptized,"  was  uttered  over  the  child,  and  Cicely  be- 
came her  name.  It  cost  Susan  a  pang,  as  it  had  been 
that  of  her  own  little  daughter,  but  it  was  too  late  to 
object,  and  she  uttered  no  regret,  but  took  the  child  to 
her  heart,  as  sent  instead  of  her  who  had  been  taken 
from  her. 

Master  Heatherthwayte  bade  them  good  speed,  and 
Master  Langston  stood  at  the  door  of  his  office  and 
waved  them  a  farewell,  both  alike  unconscious  of  the 
rejoicing  with  which  they  were  left  behind.  Mistress 
Talbot  rode  on  the  palfrey  sent  for  her  use,  with  the 


II.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  25 

little  stranger  slung  to  her  neck  for  security's  sake. 
Her  boy  rode  "  a  cock-horse "  before  his  father,  but 
a  resting-place  was  provided  for  him  on  a  sort  of 
pannier  on  one  of  the  sumpter  beasts.  What  these 
animals  could  not  carry  of  the  household  stuff  was  left 
in  Colet's  charge  to  be  despatched  by  carriers ;  and  the 
travellers  jogged  slowly  on  through  deep  Yorkshire 
lanes,  often  halting  to  refresh  the  horses  and  supply 
the  wants  of  the  little  children  at  homely  wayside  inns, 
their  entrance  usually  garnished  with  an  archway 
formed  of  the  jawbones  of  whales,  which  often  served 
for  gate-posts  in  that  eastern  part  of  Yorkshire.  And 
thus  they  journeyed,  with  frequent  halts,  until  they 
came  to  the  Derbyshire  borders. 

Bridgefield  House  stood  on  the  top  of  a  steep  slope 
leading  to  the  river  Dun,  with  a  high  arched  bridge 
and  a  mill  below  it.  From  the  bridge  proceeded  one 
of  the  magnificent  avenues  of  oak-trees  which  led  up 
to  the  lordly  lodge,  full  four  miles  off,  right  across 
Sheffield  Park. 

The  Bridgefield  estate  had  "been  a  younger  son's 
portion,  and  its  owners  had  always  been  regarded  as 
Lientlemen  retainers  of  the  head  of  their  name,  the  Earl 
of  Shrewsbury.  Tudor  jealousy  had  forbidden  the 
marshalling  of  such  a  mein4  as  the  old  feudal  lords 
had  loved  to  assemble,  and  each  generation  of  the 
Bridgefield  Talbots  had  become  more  independent  than 
the  former  one.  The  father  had  spent  his  younger 
days  as  esquire  to  the  late  Earl,  but  had  since  become 
a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  took  rank  with  the  substan- 
tial landowners  of  the  country.  Humfrey,  his  eldest 
son,  had  been  a  gentleman  pensioner  of  the  Queen  till 
Ms  marriage,  and  Bichard,  though  beginning  his  career 
as  page  to  the  present  Earl's  first  wife,  had  likewise 


26  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

entered  the  service  of  her  Majesty,  though  still  it  was 
understood  that  the  head  of  their  name  had  a  claim  to 
their  immediate  service,  and  had  he  been  called  to 
take  up  arms,  they  would  have  been  the  first  to  follow 
his  banner.  Indeed,  a  pair  of  spurs  was  all  the  annual 
rent  they  paid  for  their  estate,  which  they  held  on 
this  tenure,  as  well  as  on  paying  the  heriard  horse 
on  the  death  of  the  head  of  the  family,  and  other  con- 
tributions to  their  lord's  splendour  when  he  knighted 
his  son  or  married  his  daughter.  In  fact,  they  stood 
on  the  borderland  of  that  feudal  retainership  which 
was  being  rapidly  extinguished.  The  estate,  carved 
out  of  the  great  Sheffield  property,  was  sufficient  to 
maintain  the  owner  in  the  dignities  of  an  English 
gentleman,  and  to  portion  off  the  daughters,  provided 
that  the  superfluous  sons  shifted  for  themselves,  as 
Eichard  had  hitherto  done.  The  house  had  been 
ruined  in  the  time  of  the  Wars  of  the  Eoses,  and  re- 
built in  the  later  fashion,  with  a  friendly-looking  front, 
containing  two  large  windows,  and  a  porch  projecting 
between  them.  The  hall  reached  to  the  top  of  the 
house,  and  had  a  waggon  ceiling,  with  mastiffs  alternat- 
ing with  roses  on  portcullises  at  the  intersections  of 
the  timbers.  This  was  the  family  sitting  and  dining 
room,  and  had  a  huge  chimney  never  devoid  of  a  wood 
fire.  One  end  had  a  buttery-hatch  communicating 
with  the  kitchen  and  offices ;  at  the  other  was  a  small 
room,  sacred  to  the  master  of  the  house,  niched  under 
the  broad  staircase  that  led  to  the  upper  rooms,  which 
opened  on  a  gallery  running  round  three  sides  of  the 
hall. 

Outside,  on  the  southern  side  of  the  house,  was  a 
garden  of  potherbs,  with  the  green  walks  edged  by  a 
few  bright  flowers  for  beau-pots  and  posies.     This  had 


il]  evil  tidings.  27 

stone  walls  separating  it  from  the  paddock,  which 
sloped  down  to  the  river,  and  was  a  good  deal  broken 
by  ivy-covered  rocks.  Adjoining  the  stables  were  farm- 
buildings  and  barns,  for  there  were  several  fields  for 
tillage  along  the  river -side,  and  the  mill  and  two 
more  farms  were  the  property  of  the  Bridgefield  squire, 
so  that  the  inheritance  was  a  very  fair  one,  wedged  in, 
as  it  were,  between  the  river  and  the  great  Chase  of 
Sheffield,  up  whose  stately  avenue  the  riding  party 
looked  as  they  crossed  the  bridge,  Eichard  having 
become  more  silent  than  ever  as  he  came  among  the 
familiar  rocks  and  trees  of  his  boyhood,  and  knew  he 
should  not  meet  that  hearty  welcome  from  his  brother 
which  had  never  hitherto  failed  to  greet  his  return. 
The  house  had  that  strange  air  of  forlornness  which 
seems  to  proclaim  sorrow  within.  The  great  court 
doors  stood  open,  and  a  big,  rough  deer-hound,  at  the 
sound  of  the  approaching  hoofs,  rose  slowly  up,  and 
began  a  series  of  long,  deep-mouthed  barks,  with  pauses 
between,  sounding  like  a  knell.  One  or  two  men  and 
maids  ran  out  at  the  sound,  and  as  the  travellers  rode 
up  to  the  horse-block,  an  old  gray-bearded  serving-man 
came  stumbling  forth  with  "  Oh !  Master  Diccon,  woe 
worth  the  day !" 

"  How  does  my  mother  ? "  asked  Eichard,  as  he 
sprang  off  and  set  his  boy  on  his  feet. 

"  No  worse,  sir,  but  she  hath  not  yet  spoken  a  word 
— back,  Thunder^ah !  sir,  the  poor  dog  knows  you." 

For  the  great  hound  had  sprung  up  to  Eichard  in 
eager  greeting,  but  then,  as  soon  as  he  heard  his  voice, 
the  creature  drooped  his  ears  and  tail,  and  instead  of 
continuing  his  demonstrations  of  joy,  stood  quietly  by, 
only  now  and  then  poking  his  long,  rough  nose  into 
Eichard's    hand,   knowing    as    well    as    possible    that 


28  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

though  not  his  dear  lost  master,  he  was  the  next 
thing ! 

Mistress  Susan  and  the  infant  were  lifted  down — 
a  hurried  question  and  answer  assured  them  that  the 
funeral  was  over  yesterday.  My  Lady  Countess  had 
come  down  and  would  have  it  so;  my  lord  was  at 
Court,  and  Sir  Gilbert  and  his  brothers  had  been 
present,  but  the  old  servants  thought  it  hard  that  none 
nearer  in  blood  should  be  there  to  lay  their  young 
squire  in  his  grave,  nor  to  support  his  father,  who, 
poor  old  man,  had  tottered,  and  been  so  like  to  swoon 
as  he  passed  the  hall  door,  that  Sir  Gilbert  and  old 
Diggory  could  but  help  him  back  again,  fearing  lest 
he,  too,  might  have  a  stroke. 

It  was  a  great  grief  to  Eichard,  who  had  longed  to 
look  on  his  brother's  face  again,  but  he  could  say 
nothing,  only  he  gave  one  hand  to  his  wife  and  the 
other  to  his  son,  and  led  them  into  the  hall,  which  was 
in  an  indescribable  state  of  confusion.  The  trestles 
which  had  supported  the  coffin  were  still  at  one  end  of 
the  room,  the  long  tables  were  still  covered  with  cloths, 
trenchers,  knives,  cups,  and  the  remains  of  the  funeral 
baked  meats,  and  there  were  overthrown  tankards  and 
stains  of  wine  on  the  cloth,  as  though,  whatever  else 
were  lacking,  the  Talbot  retainers  had  not  missed  their 
revel. 

One  of  the  dishevelled  rough-looking  maidens  began 
some  hurried  muttering  about  being  so  distraught,  and 
not  looking  for  madam  so  early,  but  Susan  could  not 
listen  to  her,  and  merely  putting  the  babe  into  her 
arms,  came  with  her  husband  up  the  stairs,  leaving 
little  Humfrey  with  Nathanael. 

Eichard  knocked  at  the  bedroom  door,  and,  receiving 
no  answer,  opened  it.      There   in  the  tapestry -hung 


II.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  29 

chamber  was  the  huge  old  bedstead  with  its  solid  posts. 
In  it  lay  something  motionless,  but  the  first  thing 
the  husband  and  wife  saw  was  the  bent  head  which 
was  lifted  up  by  the  burly  but  broken  figure  in  the 
chair  beside  it. 

The  two  knotted  old  hands  clasped  the  arms  of  the 
chair,  and  the  squire  prepared  to  rise,  his  lip  trembling 
under  his  white  beard,  and  emotion  working  in  his 
dejected  features.  They  were  beforehand  with  him. 
Ere  he  could  rise  both  were  on  their  knees  before  him, 
while  Richard  in  a  broken  voice  cried,  "Father,  0 
father !" 

"  Thank  God  that  thou  art  come,  my  son,"  said  the 
old  man,  laying  his  hands  on  his  shoulders,  with  a 
gleam  of  joy,  for  as  they  afterwards  knew,  he  had 
sorely  feared  for  Richard's  ship  in  the  storm  that  had 
caused  Humfrey's  death.  "  I  looked  for  thee,  my 
daughter,"  he  added,  stretching  out  one  hand  to  Susan, 
who  kissed  it.  "  Now  it  may  go  better  with  her  ! 
Speak  to  thy  mother,  Richard,  she  may  know  thy 
voice." 

Alas  !  no  ;  the  recently  active,  ready  old  lady  was 
utterly  stricken,  and  as  yet  held  in  the  deadly  grasp 
of  paralysis,  unconscious  of  all  that  passed  around  her, 

Susan  found  herself  obliged  at  once  to  take  up 
the  reins,  and  become  head  nurse  and  housekeeper. 
The  old  squire  trusted  implicitly  to  her,  and  helplessly 
put  the  keys  into  her  hands,  and  the  serving-men  and 
maids,  in  some  shame  at  the  condition  in  which  the 
hall  had  been  found,  bestirred  themselves  to  set  it  in 
order,  so  that  there  was  a  chance  of  the  ordinary  appear- 
ance of  things  being  restored  by  supper-time,  when 
Richard  hoped  to  persuade  his  father  to  come  down  to 
his  usual  place. 


30  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Long  before  this,  however,  a  trampling  had  been 
heard  in  the  court,  and  a  shrill  voice,  well  known  to 
Eichard  and  Susan,  was  heard  demanding,  "  Come  home, 
is  she — Master  Diccon  too  ?  More  shame  for  you, 
you  sluttish  queans  and  lazy  lubbers,  never  to  have  let 
me  know ;  but  none  of  you  have  any  respect " 

A  visit  from  my  Lady  Countess  was  a  greater 
favour  to  such  a  household  as  that  of  Bridgefield  than 
it  would  be  to  a  cottage  of  the  present  day ;  Eichard 
was  hurrying  downstairs,  and  Susan  only  tarried  to 
throw  off  the  housewifely  apron  in  which  she  had  been 
compounding  a  cooling  drink  for  the  poor  old  lady, 
and  to  wash  her  hands,  while  Humfrey,  rushing  up  to 
her,  exclaimed  "  Mother,  mother,  is  it  the  Queen  ? " 

Queen  Elizabeth  herself  was  not  inaptly  represented 
by  her  namesake  of  Hardwicke,  the  Queen  of  Hallam- 
shire,  sitting  on  her  great  white  mule  at  the  door, 
sideways,  with  her  feet  on  a  board,  as  little  children 
now  ride,  and  attended  by  a  whole  troop  of  gentlemen 
ushers,  maidens,  prickers,  and  running  footmen.  She 
was  a  woman  of  the  same  type  as  the  Queen,  which 
was  of  course  enough  to  stamp  her  as  a  celebrated 
beauty,  and  though  she  had  reached  middle  age,  her 
pale,  clear  complexion  and  delicate  features  were  well 
preserved.  Her  chin  was  too  sharp,  and  there  was 
something  too  thin  and  keen  about  her  nose  and  lips 
to  promise  good  temper.  She  was  small  of  stature, 
but  she  made  up  for  it  in  dignity  of  presence,  and  as  she 
sat  there,  with  her  rich  embroidered  green  satin  farthin- 
gale spreading  out  over  the  mule,  her  tall  ruff  standing 
up  fanlike  on  her  shoulders,  her  riding -rod  in  her 
hand,  and  her  master  of  the  horse  standing  at  her  rein, 
while  a  gentleman  usher  wielded  an  enormous,  long- 
handled,  green  fan,  to  keep  the  sun  from  incommoding 


II.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  31 

her,  she  was,  perhaps,  even  more  magnificent  than  the 
maiden  queen  herself  might  have  been  in  her  more 
private  expeditions.  Indeed,  she  was  new  to  her 
dignity  as  Conntess,  having  been  only  a  few  weeks 
married  to  the  Earl,  her  fourth  husband.  Captain 
Talbot  did  not  feel  it  derogatory  to  his  dignity  as  a 
gentleman  to  advance  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  to  kiss 
her  hand,  and  put  a  knee  to  the  ground  as  he  invited 
her  to  alight,  an  invitation  his  wife  heard  with  dismay 
as  she  reached  the  door,  for  things  were  by  no  means 
yet  as  they  should  be  in  the  hall.  She  curtsied  low,  and 
advanced  with  her  son  holding  her  hand,  but  shrinking 
behind  her. 

"Ha,  kinswoman,  is  it  thou !"  was  her  greeting,  as 
she,  too,  kissed  the  small,  shapely,  white,  but  exceed- 
ingly strong  hand  that  was  extended  to  her ;  "  So  thou 
art  come,  and  high  time  too.  Thou  shouldst  never 
have  gone  a -gadding  to  Hull,  living  in  lodgings; 
awaiting  thine  husband,  forsooth.  Thou  art  over 
young  a  matron  for  such  gear,  and  so  I  told  Diccon 
Talbot  long  ago." 

"  Yea,  madam,"  said  Eichard,  somewhat  hotly, 
"  and  I  made  answer  that  my  Susan  was  to  be  trusted, 
and  truly  no  harm  has  come  thereof." 

"  Ho  !  and  you  reckon  it  no  harm  that  thy  father 
and  mother  were  left  to  a  set  of  feckless,  brainless,  idle 
serving-men  and  maids  in  their  trouble  ?  Why,  none 
would  so  much  as  have  seen  to  thy  brother's  poor 
body  being  laid  in  a  decent  grave  had  not  I  been  at 
hand  to  take  order  for  it  as  became  a  distant  kinsman 
of  my  lord.  I  tell  thee,  Eichard,  there  must  be  no 
more  of  these  vagabond  seafaring  ways.  Thou  must 
serve  my  lord,  as  a  true  retainer  and  kinsman  is  bound 
— Nay,"  in  reply  to  a  gesture,  "  I  will  not  come  in,  I 


32  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

know  too  well  in  what  ill  order  the  house  is  like  to 
be.  I  did  but  take  my  ride  this  way  to  ask  how  it 
fared  with  the  mistress',  and  try  if  I  could  shake  the 
squire  from  his  lethargy,  if  Mrs.  Susan  had  not  had 
the  grace  yet  to  be  here.  How  do  they  ?  "  Then  in 
answer,  "  Thou  must  waken  him,  Diccon — rouse  him, 
and  tell  him  that  I  and  my  lord  expect  it  of  him  that 
he  should  bear  his  loss  as  a  true  and  honest  Christian 
man,  and  not  pule  and  moan,  since  he  has  a  son  left — 
ay,  and  a  grandson.  You  should  breed  your  boy  up 
to  know  his  manners,  Susan  Talbot,"  as  Humfrey  re- 
sisted an  attempt  to  make  him  do  his  reverence  to  my 
lady ;  "  that  stout  knave  of  yours  wants  the  rod. 
Methought  I  heard  you'd  borne  another,  Susan !  Ay ! 
as  I  said  it  would  be,"  as  her  eye  fell  on  the  swaddled 
babe  in  a  maid's  arms.  "  No  lack  of  fools  to  eat  up 
the  poor  old  squire's  substance.  A  maid,  is  it  ?  Be- 
shrew  me,  if  your  voyages  will  find  portions  for  all 
your  wenches  !  Has  the  leech  let  blood  to  thy  good- 
mother,  Susan  ?  There !  not  one  amongst  you  all 
bears  any  brains.  Knew  you  not  how  to  send  up  to 
the  castle  for  Master  Drewitt  ?  Farewell !  Thou 
wilt  be  at  the  lodge  to-morrow  to  let  me  know  how  it 
fares  with  thy  mother,  when  her  brain  is  cleared  by 
further  blood-letting.  And  for  the  squire,  let  him 
know  that  I  expect  it  of  him  that  he  shall  eat,  and 
show  himself  a  man  !" 

So  saying,  the  great  lady  departed,  escorted  as  far 
as  the  avenue  gate  by  Eichard  Talbot,  and  leaving  the 
family  gratified  by  her  condescension,  and  not  allowing 
to  themselves  how  much  their  feelings  were  chafed. 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE,  33 


CHAPTEK    III. 

THE   CAPTIVE. 

Death  and  sorrow  seemed  to  Lave  marked  the  house 
of  Bridgefielcl,  for  the  old  lady  never  rallied  after  the 
blood-letting  enjoined  by  the  Countess's  medical  science, 
and  her  husband,  though  for  some  months  able  to 
creep  about  the  house,  and  even  sometimes  to  visit  the 
fields,  had  lost  his  memory,  and  became  more  childish 
week  by  week. 

Pichard  Talbot  was  obliged  to  return  to  his  ship  at 
the  end  of  the  month,  but  as  soon  as  she  was  laid  up 
for  the  winter  he  resigned  his  command,  and  returned 
home,  where  he  was  needed  to  assume  the  part  of 
master.  In  truth  he  became  actually  master  before 
the  next  spring,  for  his  father  took  to  his  bed  with 
the  first  winter  frosts,  and  in  spite  of  the  duteous 
cares  lavished  upon  him  by  his  son  and  daughter-in- 
law,  passed  from  his  bed  to  his  grave  at  the  Christmas 
feast.  Richard  Talbot  inherited  house  and  lands,  with 
the  undefined  sense  of  feudal  obligation  to  the  head  of 
his  name,  and  ere  long  he  was  called  upon  to  fulfil 
those  obligations  by  service  to  his  lord. 

There  had  been  another  act  in  the  great  Scottish 
tragedy.  Queen  Mary  had  effected  her  escape  from 
Lochleven,  but  only  to  be  at  once  defeated,  and  then  to 

VOL.  I.  D 


34  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

cross  the  Solway  and  throw  herself  into  the  hands  of 
the  English  Queen. 

Bolton  Castle  had  been  proved  to  be  too  perilously 
near  the  Border  to  serve  as  her  residence,  and  the 
inquiry  at  York,  and  afterwards  at  Westminster,  having 
proved  unsatisfactory,  Elizabeth  had  decided  on  detain- 
ing her  in  the  kingdom,  and  committed  her  to  the 
charge  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury. 

To  go  into  the  history  of  that  ill-managed  investi- 
gation is  not  the  purpose  of  this  tale.  It  is  probable 
that  Elizabeth  believed  her  cousin  guilty,  and  wished 
to  shield  that  guilt  from  being  proclaimed,  while  her 
councillors,  in  their  dread  of  the  captive,  wished  to 
enhance  the  crime  in  Elizabeth's  eyes,  and  were  by  no 
means  scrupulous  as  to  the  kind  of  evidence  they 
adduced.  However,  this  lies  outside  our  story;  all 
that  concerns  it  is  that  Lord  Shrewsbury  sent  a  sum- 
mons to  his  trusty  and  well-beloved  cousin,  Bichard 
Talbot  of  Bridgefield,  to  come  and  form  part  of  the 
guard  of  honour  which  was  to  escort  the  Queen  of 
Scots  to  Tutbury  Castle,  and  there  attend  upon  her. 

All  this  time  no  hint  had  been  given  that  the  little 
Cicely  was  of  alien  blood.  The  old  squire  and  his 
lady  had  been  in  no  state  to  hear  of  the  death  of  their 
own  grandchild,  or  of  the  adoption  of  the  orphan,  and 
Susan  was  too  reserved  a  woman  to  speak  needlessly  of 
her  griefs  to  one  so  unsympathising  as  the  Countess  or  so 
flighty  as  the  daughters  at  the  great  house.  The  men 
who  had  brought  the  summons  to  Hull  had  not  been 
lodged  in  the  house,  but  at  an  inn,  where  they  either 
had  heard  nothing  of  Master  Bichard's  adventure  or  had 
drowned  their  memory  in  ale,  for  they  said  nothing  -r 
and  thus,  without  any  formed  intention  of  secrecy,, 
the  child's  parentage  had  never  come  into  question. 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  35 

Indeed,  though  without  doubt  Mrs.  Talbot  was 
very  loyal  in  heart  to  her  noble  kinsfolk,  it  is  not 
to  be  denied  that  she  was  a  good  deal  more  at  peace 
when  they  were  not  at  the  lodge.  She  tried  devoutly 
to  follow  out  the  directions  of  my  Lady  Countess,  and 
thought  herself  hi  fault  when  things  went  amiss,  but 
she  prospered  far  more  when  free  from  such  dictation. 

She  had  nothing  to  wish  except  that  her  husband 
could  be  more  often  at  home,  but  it  was  better  to  have 
him  only  a  few  hours'  ride  from  her,  at  Chatsworth  or 
Tutbury,  than  to  know  him  exposed  to  the  perils  of 
the  sea.  He  rode  over  as  often  as  he  could  be  spared, 
to  see  his  family  and  look  after  his  property ;  but  his 
attendance  was  close,  and  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  were 
exacting  with  one  whom  they  could  thoroughly  trust, 
and  it  was  well  that  in  her  quiet  way  Mistress  Susan 
proved  capable  of  ruling  men  and  maids,  farm  and 
stable  as  well  as  house,  servants  and  children,  to  whom 
another  boy  was  added  in  the  course  of  the  year  after 
her  return  to  Briclgefield. 

In  the  autumn,  notice  was  sent  that  the  Queen  of 
Scots  was  to  be  lodged  at  Sheffield,  and  long  trains  of 
waggons  and  sumpter  horses  and  mules  began  to  arrive, 
1  wringing  her  plenishing  and  household  stuff  in  advance. 
Servants  without  number  were  sent  on,  both  by  her 
and  by  the  Earl,  to  make  preparations,  and  on  a 
November  day,  tidings  came  that  the  arrival  might 
be  expected  in  the  afternoon.  Commands  were  sent 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  town  at  the  park 
gate  should  keep  within  doors,  and  not  come  forth 
to  give  any  show  of  welcome  to  their  lord  and  lady, 
lest  it  should  be  taken  as  homage  to  the  captive 
queen;  but  at  the  Manor-house  there  was  a  little 
family  gathering  to  hail  the  Earl  and  Countess.     It 


36  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

chiefly  consisted  of  ladies  with  their  children,  the 
husbands  of  most  being  in  the  suite  of  the  Earl  acting 
as  escort  or  guard  to  the  Queen.  Susan  Talbot,  being 
akin  to  the  family  on  both  sides,  was  there  with  the 
two  elder  children ;  Humfrey,  both  that  he  might 
greet  his  father  the  sooner,  and  that  he  might  be  able 
to  remember  the  memorable  arrival  of  the  captive 
queen,  and  Cicely,  because  he  had  clamoured  loudly 
for  her  company.  Lady  Talbot,  of  the  Herbert  blood, 
wife  to  the  heir,  was  present  with  two  young  sisters- 
in-law,  Lady  Grace,  daughter  to  the  Earl,  and  Mary, 
daughter  to  the  Countess,  who  had  been  respectively 
married  to  Sir  Henry  Cavendish  and  Sir  Gilbert  Tal- 
bot, a  few  weeks  before  their  respective  parents  were 
wedded,  when  the  brides  were  only  twelve  and  fourteen 
years  old.  There,  too,  was  Mrs.  Babington  of  Dethick, 
the  recent  widow  of  a  kinsman  of  Lord  Shrewsbury,  to 
whom  had  been  granted  the  wardship  of  her  son,  and 
the  little  party  waiting  in  the  hall  also  numbered 
Elizabeth  and  William  Cavendish,  the  Countess's 
youngest  children,  and  many  dependants  mustered  in 
the  background,  ready  for  the  reception.  Indeed,  the 
castle  and  manor-house,  with  their  offices,  lodges,  and 
outbuildings,  were  an  absolute  little  city  in  themselves. 
The  castle  was  still  kept  in  perfect  repair,  for  the 
battle  of  Bosworth  was  not  quite  beyond  the  memory 
of  living  men's  fathers ;  and  besides,  who  could  tell 
whether  any  day  England  might  not  have  to  be  con- 
tested inch  by  inch  with  the  Spaniard  ?  So  the 
gray  walls  stood  on  the  tongue  of  land  in  the  valley, 
formed  by  the  junction  of  the  rivers  Sheaf  and  Dun, 
with  towers  at  all  the  gateways,  enclosing  a  space  of 
no  less  than  eight  acres,  and  with  the  actual  fortress, 
crisp,  strong,  hard,  and  unmouldered  in  the  midst,  its 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  37 

tallest  square  tower  serving  as  a  look-out  place  for 
those  who  watched  to  give  the  first  intimation  of  the 
arrival. 

The  castle  had  its  population,  but  chiefly  of  grooms, 
warders,  and  their  families.  The  state-rooms  high  up 
in  that  square  tower  were  so  exceedingly  confined, 
so  stern  and  grim,  that  the  grandfather  of  the  pre- 
sent earl  had  built  a  manor-house  for  his  family 
residence  on  the  sloping  ground  on  the  farther  side  of 
the  Dun. 

This  house,  built  of  stone,  timber,  and  brick,  with 
two  large  courts,  two  gardens,  and  three  yards,  covered 
nearly  as  much  space  as  the  castle  itself.  A  pleasant, 
smooth,  grass  lawn  lay  in  front,  and  on  it  converged 
the  avenues  of  oaks  and  walnuts,  stretching  towards 
the  gates  of  the  park,  narrowing  to  the  eye  into  single 
lines,  then  going  absolutely  out  of  sight,  and  the  sea  of 
foliage  presenting  the  utmost  variety  of  beautiful  tints 
of  orange,  yellow,  brown,  and  red.  There  was  a  great 
gateway  between  two  new  octagon  towers  of  red  brick, 
with  battlements  and  dressings  of  stone,  and  from  this 
porch  a  staircase  led  upwards  to  the  great  stone-paved 
hall,  with  a  huge  fire  burning  on  the  open  hearth. 
Around  it  had  gathered  the  ladies  of  the  Talbot 
family  waiting  for  the  reception.  The  warder  on  the 
tower  had  blown  his  horn  as  a  signal  that  the  master 
and  his  royal  guest  were  within  the  park,  and  the 
banner  of  the  Talbots  had  been  raised  to  announce 
their  coming,  but  nearly  half  an  hour  must  pass  while 
the  party  came  along  the  avenue  from  the  drawbridge 
over  the  Sheaf  ere  they  could  arrive  at  the  lodge. 

So  the  ladies,  in  full  state  dresses,  hovered  over  the 
fire,  while  the  children  played  in  the  window  seat  near 
at  hand. 


38  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Gilbert  Talbot's  wife,  a  thin,  yellow-haired,  young 
creature,  promising  to  be  like  her  mother,  the  Countess, 
had  a  tongue  which  loved  to  run,  and  with  the  preco- 
city and  importance  of  wifehood  at  sixteen,  she  dilated 
to  her  companions  on  her  mother's  constant  attendance 
on  the  Queen,  and  the  perpetual  plots  for  that  lady's 
escape.  "  She  is  as  shifty  and  active  as  any  cat-a- 
mount ;  and  at  Chatsworth  she  had  a  scheme  for  being 
off  out  of  her  bedchamber  window  to  meet  a  traitor 
fellow  named  Eoll ;  but  my  husband  smelt  it  out  in 
good  time,  and  had  the  guard  beneath  my  lady's 
window,  and  the  fellows  are  in  gyves,  and  to  see  the 
lady  the  day  it  was  found  out !  Not  a  wry  face  did 
she  make.  Oh  no  !  'Twas  all  my  good  lord,  and  my 
sweet  sir  with  her.  I  promise  you  butter  would  not 
melt  in  her  mouth,  for  my  Lord  Treasurer  Cecil  hath 
been  to  see  her,  and  he  has  promised  to  bring  her  to 
speech  of  her  Majesty.  May  I  be  there  to  see.  I  pro- 
mise you  'twill  be  diamond  cut  diamond  between  them." 

"How  did  she  and  my  Lord  Treasurer  fare  to- 
gether ?"  asked  Mrs.  Babington. 

"  Well,  you  know  there's  not  a  man  of  them  all  that 
is  proof  against  her  blandishments.  Her  Majesty 
should  have  women  warders  for  her.  'Twas  good 
sport  to  see  the  furrows  in  his  old  brow  smoothing  out 
against  his  will  as  it  were,  while  she  plied  him  with 
her  tongue.  I  never  saw  the  Queen  herself  win  such  a 
smile  as  came  on  his  lips,  but  then  he  is  always  a  sort 
of  master,  or  tutor,  as  it  were,  to  the  Queen.  Ay,"  on 
some  exclamation  from  Lady  Talbot,  "  she  heeds  him 
like  no  one  else.  She  may  fling  out,  and  run  counter 
to  him  for  the  very  pleasure  of  feeling  that  she  has 
the  power,  but  she  will  come  round  at  last,  and  'tis 
his  will  that  is  done  in  the  long  run.     If  this  lady 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  39 

coiild  beguile  him  indeed,  she  might  be  a  free  woman 
in  the  end." 

"And  think  you  that  she  did  ?" 

"  Not  she  !  The  Lord  Treasurer  is  too  long-headed, 
and  has  too  strong  a  hate  to  all  Papistry,  to  be  beguiled 
more  than  for  the  very  moment  he  was  before  her.  He 
cannot  help  the  being  a  man,  you  see,  and  they  are  all 
alike  when  once  in  her  presence — your  lord  and  father, 
like  the  rest  of  them,  sister  Grace.  Mark  me  if  there 
be  not  tempests  brewing,  an  we  be  not  the  sooner  rid 
of  this  guest  of  ours.  My  mother  is  not  the  woman 
to  bear  it  long." 

Dame  Mary's  tongue  was  apt  to  run  on  too  fast, 
and  Lady  Talbot  interrupted  its  career  with  an  amused 
gesture  towards  the  children. 

For  the  little  Cis,  babe  as  she  was,  had  all  the  three 
boys  at  her  service.  Humfrey,  with  a  paternal  air,  was 
holding  her  on  the  window-seat ;  Antony  Babington 
was  standing  to  receive  the  ball  that  was  being  tossed 
to  and  fro  between  them,  but  as  she  never  caught  it, 
Will  Cavendish  was  content  to  pick  it  up  every  time 
and  return  it  to  her,  appearing  amply  rewarded  by  her 
laugh  of  delight. 

The  two  mothers  could  not  but  laugh,  and  Mrs. 
Babington  said  the  brave  lads  were  learning  their 
knightly  courtesy  early,  while  Mary  Talbot  began 
observing  on  the  want  of  likeness  between  Cis  and 
either  the  Talbot  or  Hardwicke  race.  The  little  girl 
was  much  darker  in  colouring  than  any  of  the  boys,  and 
had  a  pair  of  black,  dark,  heavy  brows,  that  prevented 
her  from  being  a  pretty  child.  Her  adopted  mother 
shrank  from  such  observations,  and  was  rejoiced  that  a 
winding  of  horns,  and  a  shout  from  the  boys,  announced 
that  the  expected  arrival  was  about  to  take  place.     The 


40  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

ladies  darted  to  the  window,  and  beholding  the  avenue 
full  of  horsemen  and  horsewomen,  their  accoutrements 
and  those  of  their  escort  gleaming  in  the  sun,  each 
mother  gathered  her  own  chicks  to  herself,  smoothed 
the  plumage  somewhat  ruffled  by  sport,  and  advanced 
to  the  head  of  the  stone  steps,  William  Cavendish,  the 
eldest  of  the  boys,  being  sent  down  to  take  his  step- 
father's rein  and  hold  his  stirrup,  page  fashion. 

Clattering  and  jingling  the  troop  arrived.  The 
Earl,  a  stout,  square  man,  with  a  long  narrow  face, 
lengthened  out  farther  by  a  light-coloured,  silky  beard, 
which  fell  below  his  ruff,  descended  from  his  steed, 
cjave  his  hat  to  Eicharcl  Talbot,  and  handed  from  her 
horse  a  hooded  and  veiled  lady  of  slender  proportions, 
who  leant  on  his  arm  as  she  ascended  the  steps. 

The  ladies  knelt,  whether  in  respect  to  the  heads  of 
the  family,  or  to  the  royal  guest,  may  be  doubtful. 

The  Queen  came  up  the  stairs  with  rheumatic  steps, 
declaring,  however,  as  she  did  so,  that  she  felt  the 
better  for  her  ride,  and  was  less  fatigued  than  when 
she  set  forth.  She  had  the  soft,  low,  sweet  Scottish 
voice,  and  a  thorough  Scottish  accent  and  language, 
tempered,  however,  by  French  tones,  and  as,  coming 
into  the  warmer  air  of  the  hall,  she  withdrew  her 
veil,  her  countenance  was  seen.  Mary  Stuart  was 
only  thirty-one  at  this  time,  and  her  face  was  still 
youthful,  though  worn  and  wearied,  and  bearing  tokens 
of  illness.  The  features  were  far  from  being  regularly 
beautiful;  there  was  a  decided  cast  in  one  of  the 
eyes,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  Mary  Talbot's  detracting 
tongue  had  said,  Susan's  first  impression  was  dis- 
appointment. But,  as  the  Queen  greeted  the  lady 
whom  she  already  knew,  and  the  Earl  presented  his 
daughter,    Lady    Grace,    his    stepdaughter,    Elizabeth 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  41 

Cavendish,  and  his  kinswoman,  Mistress  Susan  Talbot, 
the  extraordinary  magic  of  her  eye  and  lip  beamed  on 
them,  t)ie  queenly  grace  and  dignity  joined  with  a 
wonderful  sweetness  impressed  them  all,  and  each  in 
measure  felt  the  fascination. 

The  Earl  led  the  Queen  to  the  fire  to  obtain  a  little 
warmth  before  mounting  the  stairs  to  her  own  apart- 
ments, and  likewise  while  Lady  Shrewsbury  was  dis- 
mounting, and  being  handed  up  the  stairs  by  her  second 
stepson,  Gilbert.  The  ladies  likewise  knelt  on  one 
knee  to  greet  this  mighty  dame,  and  the  children 
■should  have  done  so  too,  but  little  Cis,  catching  sight 
of  Captain  Richard,  who  had  come  up  bearing  the 
Earl's  hat,  in  immediate  attendance  on  him,  broke  out 
with  an  exulting  cry  of  "Eather!  father!  father!" 
trotted  with  outspread  arms  right  in  front  of  the  royal 
lady,  embraced  the  booted  leg  in  ecstasy,  and  then 
stretching  out,  exclaimed  "Up  !  up  !" 

"  How  now,  malapert  poppet  ! "  exclaimed  the 
Countess,  and  though  at  some  distance,  uplifted  her 
riding-rod.  Susan  was  ready  to  sink  into  the  earth 
with  confusion  at  the  great  lady's  displeasure,  but 
Richard  had  stooped  and  lifted  the  little  maid  in  his 
arms,  while  Queen  Mary  turned,  her  face  lit  up  as  by 
a  sunbeam,  and  said,  "  Ah,  bonnibell,  art  thou  fain 
to  see  thy  father?  Wilt  thou  give  me  one  of  thy 
kisses,  sweet  bairnie  ?"  and  as  Richard  held  her  up  to 
the  kind  face,  "  A  goodly  child,  brave  sir.  Thou  must 
let  me  have  her  at  times  for  a  playfellow.  Wilt  come 
and  comfort  a  poor  prisoner,  little  sweeting  ?" 

The  child  responded  with  "  Poor  poor,"  stroking  the 
soft  delicate  cheek,  but  the  Countess  interfered,  still 
wrathful.  "  Master  Richard,  I  marvel  that  you  should 
let  her  Grace  be  beset  by  a  child,  who,  if  she  cannot 


42  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

demean  herself  decorously,  should  have  been  left  at 
home.  Susan  Hardwicke,  I  thought  I  had  schooled 
you  better." 

"Nay,  madam,  may  not  a  babe's  gentle  deed  of 
pity  be  pardoned  ?"  said  Mary. 

"  Oh !  if  it  pleasures  you,  madam,  so  be  it,"  said 
Lady  Shrewsbury,  deferentially ;  "  but  there  be  children 
here  more  worthy  of  your  notice  than  yonder  little 
black-browed  wench,  who  hath  been  allowed  to  thrust 
herself  forward,  while  others  have  been  kept  back 
from  importuning  your  Grace." 

"  No  child  can  importune  a  mother  who  is  cut  off 
from  her  own,"  said  Mary,  eager  to  make  up  for  the 
jealousy  she  had  excited.  "  Is  this  bonnie  laddie  yours, 
madam  ?  Ah !  I  should  have  known  it  by  the 
resemblance." 

She  held  her  white  hand  to  receive  the  kisses  of 
the  boys  :  William  Cavendish,  under  his  mother's  eye, 
knelt  obediently ;  Antony  Babington,  a  fair,  pretty  lad, 
of  eight  or  nine,  of  a  beautiful  pink  and  white  com- 
plexion, pressed  forward  with  an  eager  devotion  which 
made  the  Queen  smile  and  press  her  delicate  hand  on 
his  curled  locks ;  as  for  Hunrfrey,  he  retreated  behind 
the  shelter  of  his  mother's  farthingale,  where  his 
presence  was  forgotten  by  every  one  else,  and,  after 
the  rebuff  just  administered  to  Cicely,  there  was  no 
inclination  to  bring  him  to  light,  or  combat  with  his 
bashfulness. 

The  introductions  over,  Mary  gave  her  hand  to  the 
Earl  to  be  conducted  from  the  hall  up  the  broad  stair- 
case, and  along  the  great  western  gallery  to  the  south 
front,  where  for  many  days  her  properties  had  been  in 
course  of  being  arranged. 

Lady  Shrewsbury  followed  as  mistress  of  the  house, 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  43 

and  behind,  in  order  of  precedence,  came  the  Scottish 
Queen's  household,  in  which  the  dark,  keen  features  of 
the  French,  and  the  rufous  hues  of  the  Scots,  were 
nearly  equally  divided.  Lady  Livingstone  and  Mistress 
Seaton,  two  of  the  Queen's  Maries  of  the  same  age 
with  herself,  came  next,  the  one  led  by  Lord  Talbot, 
the  other  by  Lord  Livingstone.  There  was  also  the 
faithful  French  Marie  de  Courcelles,  paired  with  Master 
Beatoun,  comptroller  of  the  household,  and  Jean 
Kennedy,  a  stiff  Scotswoman,  whose  hard  outlines 
did  not  do  justice  to  her  tenderness  and  fidelity,  and 
with  her  was  a  tall,  active,  keen-faced  stripling,  looked 
on  with  special  suspicion  by  the  English,  as  Willie 
Douglas,  the  contriver  of  the  Queen's  flight  from  Loch- 
leven.  Two  secretaries,  French  and  Scottish,  were 
shrewdly  suspected  of  being  priests,  and  there  were 
besides,  a  physician,  surgeon,  apothecary,  with  per- 
fumers, cooks,  pantlers,  scullions,  lacqueys,  to  the 
number  of  thirty,  besides  their  wives  and  attendants, 
these  last  being  "  permitted  of  my  lord's  benevolence." 

They  were  all  eyed  askance  by  the  sturdy,  north 
country  English,  who  naturally  hated  all  strangers, 
above  all  French  and  Scotch,  and  viewed  the  band  of 
captives  much  like  a  caged  herd  of  wild  beasts. 

When  on  the  way  home  Mistress  Susan  asked  her 
little  boy  why  he  would  not  make  his  obeisance  to  the 
pretty  lady,  he  sturdily  answered,  "  She  is  no  pretty 
lady  of  mine.  She  is  an  evil  woman  who  slew  her 
husband." 

"  Poor  lady !  tongues  have  been  busy  with  her,"  said 
his  father. 

"  How,  sir  ?"  asked  Susan,  amazed,  "  do  you  think 
her  guiltless  in  the  matter?" 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  returned  Pdchard.     "  All  I  know  is 


44  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

that  many  who  have  no  mercy  on  her  would  change 
their  minds  if  they  beheld  her  patient  and  kindly 
demeanonr  to  all." 

This  was  a  sort  of  shock  to  Susan,  as  it  seemed  to 
her  to  prove  the  truth  of  little  Lady  Talbot's  words, 
that  no  one  was  proof  against  Queen  Mary's  wiles ; 
but  she  was  happy  in  having  her  husband  at  home 
once  more,  though,  as  he  told  her,  he  would  be  occu- 
pied most  of  each  alternate  day  at  Sheffield,  he  and 
another  relation  having  been  appointed  "gentlemen 
porters,"  which  meant  that  they  were  to  wait  in  a 
chamber  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  keep  watch  over 
whatever  went  in  or  out  of  the  apartments  of  the 
captive  and  her  suite. 

"  And,"  said  Eichard,  "  who  think  you  came  to  see 
me  at  Wingfield  ?  None  other  than  Cuthbert  Lang- 
ston." 

"  Hath  he  left  his  merchandise  at  Hull  ? " 

"  Ay,  so  he  saith.  He  would  fain  have  had  my 
good  word  to  my  lord  for  a  post  in  the  household,  as 
comptroller  of  accounts,  clerk,  or  the  like.  It  seemed 
as  though  there  were  no  office  he  would  not  take  so 
that  he  might  hang  about  the  neighbourhood  of  this 
queen." 

"  Then  you  would  not  grant  him  your  recommend- 
ation?" 

"  ISTay,  truly.  I  could  not  answer  for  him,  and  his 
very  anxiety  made  me  the  more  bent  on  not  bringing 
him  hither.  I'd  fain  serve  in  no  ship  where  I  know 
not  the  honesty  of  all  the  crew,  and  Cuthbert  hath  ever 
had  a  hankering  after  the  old  profession." 

"  Yerily  then  it  were  not  well  to  bring  him  hither." 

"  Moreover,  he  is  a  lover  of  mysteries  and  schemes," 
said  Eichard.     "  He  would   never  be  content   to  let 


lit]  THE  CAPTIVE.  45 

alone  the  question  of  our  little  wench's  birth,  and 
would  be  fretting  us  for  ever  about  the  matter." 

"Did  he  speak  of  it?" 

"  Yea.  He  would  have  me  to  wit  that  a  nurse  and. 
babe  had  been  put  on  board  at  Dumbarton.  Well, 
said  I,  and  so  they  must  have  been,  since  on  board 
they  were.  Is  that  all  thou  hast  to  tell  me  ?  And 
mighty  as  was  the  work  he  would  have  made  of  it, 
this  was  all  he  seemed  to  know.  I  asked,  in  my  turn, 
how  he  came  to  know  thus  much  about  a  vessel  sailing 
from  a  port  in  arms  against  the  Lords  of  the  Congrega- 
tion, the  allies  of  her  Majesty  ?" 

"What  said  he?" 

"  That  his  house  had  dealings  with  the  owners  of 
the  Bride  of  Dmibar.  I  like  not  such  dealings,  and  so 
long  as  this  lady  and  her  train  are  near  us,  I  would  by 
no  means  have  him  whispering  here  and  there  that  she 
is  a  Scottish  orphan." 

"It  would  chafe  my  Lady  Countess  !"  said  Susan, 
to  whom  this  was  a  serious  matter.  "  Yet  doth  it 
not  behove  us  to  endeavour  to  find  out  her  parentage  ?" 

"I  tell  you  I  proved  to  myself  that  he  knew 
nothing,  and  all  that  we  have  to  do  is  to  hinder  him 
from  making  mischief  out  of  that  little,"  returned 
Eichard  impatiently. 

The  honest  captain  could  scarcely  have  told  the 
cause  of  his  distrust  or  of  his  secrecy,  but  he  had  a 
general  feeling  that  to  let  an  intriguer  like  Cuthbert 
Langston  rake  up  any  tale  that  could  be  connected 
with  the  party  of  the  captive  queen,  could  only  lead 
to  danger  and  trouble. 


48  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

"  Never  mind,  Cis,"  interposed  one  of  the  boys — 
"  we  shall  lose  all  our  play  time  if  you  try  to  make 
him  do  it  with  a  grace.  Curtsies  are  women's  work 
— go  on." 

"  Where  was  I  ?  0 — "  (resuming  her  dignity  after 
these  asides)  "  Thou  hast  a  new  farthingale,  I  see." 

"  To  do  my  poor  honour  to  your  Grace's  birthday. 

"  Oh  ho  !  Is  it  so  ?  Methought  it  had  been  to  do 
honour  to  my  fair  mistress's  own  taper  waist.  And 
pray  how  much  an  ell  was  yonder  broidered  stuff?" 

"  Two  crowns,  an't  please  your  Grace,"  returned 
the  supposed  lady,  making  a  wild  conjecture. 

"  Two  crowns !  thou  foolish  Antony  ! "  TheD 
recollecting  herself,  "  two  crowns !  what,  when  mine 
costs  but  half!  Thou  presumptuous,  lavish  varlet — 
no,  no,  wench !  what  right  hast  thou  to  wear  gowns 
finer  than  thy  liege? — I'll  teach  you."  Wherewith, 
erecting  all  her  talons,  and  clawing  frightfully  with 
them  in  the  air,  the  supposed  Queen  Bess  leapt  at  the 
unfortunate  maid  of  honour,  appeared  to  tear  the 
imaginary  robe,  and  drove  her  victim  off  the  stage 
with  a  great  air  of  violence,  amid  peals  of  laughter 
from  the  other  children,  loud  enough  to  drown  those 
of  the  elders,  who  could  hardly  restrain  their  merri- 
ment. Gilbert  Talbot,  however,  had  been  looking 
about  him  anxiously  all  the  time,  and  would  fain  have 
moved  away ;  but  a  sign  from  Queen  Mary  withheld 
him,  as  one  of  the  children  cried, 

"  Now !  show  us  how  she  serves  her  lords." 

The  play  seemed  well  understood  between  them, 
for  the  mimic  queen  again  settled  herself  on  her 
throne,  while  Will  Cavendish,  calling  out,  "  Now  I'm 
Master  Hatton,"  began  to  tread  a  stately  measure  on 
the  grass,  while  the  queen  exclaimed,  "  Who  is  this 


IV.]         THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         49 

new  star  of  my  court  ?  What  stalwart  limbs,  what 
graceful  tread  !     Who  art  thou,  sir  ?" 

"  Madam,  I  am — I  am.   What  is  it  ?  An  ef — ef " 

"  A  daddy-long-legs,"  mischievously  suggested  an- 
other of  the  group. 

"  Xo,  it's  Latin.  Is  it  Ephraim  ?  Xo  ;  it's  a  fly, 
something  like  a  gnat "  (then  at  an  impatient  gesture 
from  her  Majesty)  "  disporting  itself  in  the  beams  of 
the  noontide  sun." 

"  Blood-sucking,"  whispered  the  real  Queen  behind 
the  fern.  "  He  is  not  so  far  out  there.  See !  see  ! 
with  what  a  grace  the  child  holds  out  her  little  hand 
for  him  to  kiss.  I  doubt  me  if  Elizabeth  herself  could 
be  more  stately.     But  who  comes  here  ?" 

"  I'm  Sir  Philip  Sydney." 

"  Xo,  no,"  shouted  Humfrey,  "  Sir  Philip  shall  not 
come  into  this  fooling.  My  father  says  he's  the  best 
knight  in  England." 

"  He  is  as  bad  as  the  rest  in  flattery  to  the  Queen," 
returned  young  Cavendish. 

"  I'll  not  have  it,  I  say.  You  may  be  Lord  Lei- 
cester an  you  will !     He's  but  Eobin  Dudley." 

"  Ah  !"  began  the  lad,  now  advancing  and  shading 
his  eyes.  "What  burnished  splendour  dazzles  my 
weak  sight?  Is  it  a  second  Juno  that  I  behold,  or 
lovely  Venus  herself  ?  Xay,  there  is  a  wisdom  in  her 
that  can  only  belong  to  the  great  Minerva  herself! 
So  youthful  too.     Is  it  Hebe  descended  to  this  earth  ?" 

Cis  smirked,  and  held  out  a  hand,  saying  in  an 
affected  tone,  "Lord  Earl,  are  thy  wits  astray  ?" 

"  Whose  wits  would  not  be  perturbed  at  the  mere 
sight  of  such  exquisite  beauty  ?" 

"  Come  and  sit  at  our  feet,  and  we  will  try  to  restore 
them,"  said  the  stage  queen  ;  but  here  little  Diccon, 
vol.  I.  E 


48  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

"  Never  mind,  Cis,"  interposed  one  of  the  boys — 
"  we  shall  lose  all  our  play  time  if  you  try  to  make 
him  do  it  with  a  grace.  Curtsies  are  women's  work 
— go  on." 

"  Where  was  I  ?  0 — "  (resuming  her  dignity  after 
these  asides)  "  Thou  hast  a  new  farthingale,  I  see." 

"  To  do  my  poor  honour  to  your  Grace's  birthday. 

"  Oh  ho  !  Is  it  so  ?  Methought  it  had  been  to  do 
honour  to  my  fair  mistress's  own  taper  waist.  And 
pray  how  much  an  ell  was  yonder  broiclered  stuff?" 

"  Two  crowns,  an't  please  your  Grace,"  returned 
the  supposed  lady,  making  a  wild  conjecture. 

"  Two  crowns !  thou  foolish  Antony  ! "  Then 
recollecting  herself,  "  two  crowns  !  what,  when  mine 
costs  but  half!  Thou  presumptuous,  lavish  varlet — 
no,  no,  wench  !  what  right  hast  thou  to  wear  gowns 
finer  than  thy  liege  ? — I'll  teach  you."  Wherewith, 
erecting  all  her  talons,  and  clawing  frightfully  with 
them  in  the  air,  the  supposed  Queen  Bess  leapt  at  the 
unfortunate  maid  of  honour,  appeared  to  tear  the 
imaginary  robe,  and  drove  her  victim  off  the  stage 
with  a  great  air  of  violence,  amid  peals  of  laughter 
from  the  other  children,  loud  enough  to  drown  those 
of  the  elders,  who  could  hardly  restrain  their  merri- 
ment. Gilbert  Talbot,  however,  had  been  looking 
about  him  anxiously  all  the  time,  and  would  fain  have 
moved  away ;  but  a  sign  from  Queen  Mary  withheld 
him,  as  one  of  the  children  cried, 

"  Now !  show  us  how  she  serves  her  lords." 

The  play  seemed  well  understood  between  them, 
for  the  mimic  queen  again  settled  herself  on  her 
throne,  while  Will  Cavendish,  calling  out,  "  Now  I'm 
Master  Hatton,"  began  to  tread  a  stately  measure  on 
the  grass,  while  the  queen  exclaimed,  "  Who  is  this 


IV.]         THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         49 

new  star  of  my  court  ?  What  stalwart  limbs,  what 
graceful  tread  !     "Who  art  thou,  sir  ?" 

"  Madam,  I  am — I  am.  What  is  it  ?  An  ef — ef " 

"A  daddy-long-legs,"  mischievously  suggested  an- 
other of  the  group. 

"  Xo,  it's  Latin.  Is  it  Ephraim  ?  No  ;  it's  a  fly, 
something  like  a  gnat "  (then  at  an  impatient  gesture 
from  her  Majesty)  "  disporting  itself  in  the  beams  of 
the  noontide  sun." 

"  Blood-sucking,"  whispered  the  real  Queen  behind 
the  fern.  "  He  is  not  so  far  out  there.  See !  see  ! 
with  what  a  grace  the  child  holds  out  her  little  hand 
for  him  to  kiss.  I  doubt  me  if  Elizabeth  herself  could 
be  more  stately.     But  who  comes  here  ?" 

"  I'm  Sir  Philip  Sydney." 

"  No,  no,"  shouted  Humfrey,  "  Sir  Philip  shall  not 
come  into  this  fooling.  My  father  says  he's  the  best 
knight  in  England." 

"  He  is  as  bad  as  the  rest  in  flattery  to  the  Queen," 
returned  young  Cavendish. 

"  I'll  not  have  it,  I  say.  You  may  be  Lord  Lei- 
cester an  you  will !     He's  but  Robin  Dudley." 

"  Ah  !"  began  the  lad,  now  advancing  and  shading 
his  eyes.  "  What  burnished  splendour  dazzles  my 
weak  sight?  Is  it  a  second  Juno  that  I  behold,  or 
lovely  Venus  herself  ?  Nay,  there  is  a  wisdom  in  her 
that  can  only  belong  to  the  great  Minerva  herself! 
So  youthful  too.    Is  it  Hebe  descended  to  this  earth  ?" 

Cis  smirked,  and  held  out  a  hand,  saying  in  an 
affected  tone,  "  Lord  Earl,  are  thy  wits  astray  ?" 

"  Whose  wits  would  not  be  perturbed  at  the  mere 
sight  of  such  exquisite  beauty  ?" 

"  Come  and  sit  at  our  feet,  and  we  will  try  to  restore 
them,"  said  the  stage  queen  ;  but  here  little  Diccon, 
vol.  I.  E 


50  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

the  youngest  of  the  party,  eager  for  more  action,  called 
out,  "  Show  us  how  she  treats  her  lords  and  ladies 
together." 

On  which  young  Babington,  as  the  lady,  and 
Humfrey,  made  demonstrations  of  love-making  and 
betrothal,  upon  which  their  sovereign  lady  descended 
on  them  with  furious  tokens  of  indignation,  abusing  them 
right  and  left,  until  in  the  midst  the  great  castle  bell 
pealed  forth,  and  caused  a  flight  general,  being,  in  fact, 
the  summons  to  the  school  kept  in  one  of  the  castle 
chambers  by  one  Master  Snigg,  or  Sniggius,  for  the 
children  of  the  numerous  colony  who  peopled  the 
castle.  Girls,  as  well  as  boys,  were  taught  there,  and 
thus  Cis  accompanied  Humfrey  and  Diccon,  and  con- 
sorted with  their  companions. 

Queen  Mary  was  allowed  to  hunt  and  take  out-of- 
door  exercise  in  the  park  whenever  she  pleased,  but 
Lord  Shrewsbury,  or  one  of  his  sons,  Gilbert  and 
Francis,  never  was  absent  from  her  for  a  moment 
when  she  went  beyond  the  door  of  the  lesser  lodge, 
which  the  Earl  had  erected  for  her,  with  a  flat,  leaded, 
and  parapeted  roof,  where  she  could  take  the  air,  and 
with  only  one  entrance,  where  was  stationed  a  "  gentle- 
man porter,"  with  two  subordinates,  whose  business  it 
was  to  keep  a  close  watch  over  every  person  or  thing 
that  went  in  or  out.  If  she  had  any  purpose  of  losing 
herself  in  the  thickets  of  fern,  or  copsewood,  in  the 
park,  or  holding  unperceived  conference  under  shelter 
of  the  chase,  these  plans  were  rendered  impossible  by 
the  pertinacious  presence  of  one  or  other  of  the  Talbots, 
who  acted  completely  up  to  their  name. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  Queen,  with  Gilbert  in  close 
attendance,  had  found  herself  an  unseen  spectator  of 
the  children's  performance,  which  she  watched  with 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEX  HALL         51 

the  keen  enjoyment  that  sometimes  made  her  forget  her 
troubles  for  the  moment. 

"How  got  the  imps  such  knowledge  ?"  mused  Gil- 
bert Talbot,  as  he  led  the  Queen  out  on  the  sward 
which  had  been  the  theatre  of  their  mimicry. 

"Do  you  ask  that,  Sir  Gilbert?"  said  the  Queen 
with  emphasis,  for  indeed  it  was  his  wife  who  had  been 
the  chief  retailer  of  scandal  about  Queen  Elizabeth, 
to  the  not  unwilling  ears  of  herself  and  his  mother; 
and  Antony  Babington,  as  my  lady's  page,  had  but 
used  his  opportunities. 

"  They  are  insolent  varlets  and  deserve  the  rod," 
continued  Gilbert. 

"  You  are  too  ready  with  the  rod,  you  English," 
returned  Mary.  "  You  flog  all  that  is  clever  and 
spirited  out  of  your  poor  children  !" 

"  That  is  the  question,  madam.  Have  the  English 
been  found  so  deficient  in  spirit  compared  with  other 
nations  ?" 

"  Ah  !  we  all  know  what  you  English  can  say  for 
yourselves,"  returned  the  Queen.  "  See  what  Master 
John  Coke  hath  made  of  the  herald's  argument  before 
Dame  Eenown,  in  his  translation.  He  hath  twisted 
all  the  other  way." 

"  Yea,  madam,  but  the  Erench  herald  had  it  all  his 
own  way  before.  So  it  was  but  just  we  should  have 
our  turn." 

Here  a  cry  from  the  other  hunters  greeted  them, 
and  they  found  Lord  Shrewsbury,  some  of  the  ladies, 
and  a  number  of  prickers,  looking  anxiously  for 
them. 

"  Here  we  are,  good  my  lord,"  said  the  Queen,  who, 
when  free  from  rheumatism,  was  a  most  active  walker. 
"  We  have  only  been  stalking  my  sister  Queen's  court 


KKnY"M»«s 


52  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

in  small,  the  prettiest  and  drollest  pastime  I  have  seen 
for  many  a  long  day." 

Much  had  happened  in  the  course  of  the  past  years. 
The  intrigues  with  Northumberland  and  Norfolk,  and 
the  secret  efforts  of  the  unfortunate  Queen  to  obtain 
friends,  and  stir  up  enemies  against  Elizabeth,  had 
resulted  in  her  bonds  being  drawn  closer  and  closer. 
The  Eising  of  the  North  had  taken  place,  and  Cuth- 
bert  Langston  had  been  heard  of  as  taking  a  prominent 
part  beneath  the  sacred  banner,  but  he  had  been 
wounded  and  not  since  heard  of,  and  his  kindred  knew 
not  whether  he  were  among  the  unnamed  dead  who 
loaded  the  trees  in  the  rear  of  the  army  of  Sussex,  or 
whether  he  had  escaped  beyond  seas.  Eichard  Talbot 
still  remained  as  one  of  the  trusted  kinsmen  of  Lord 
Shrewsbury,  on  whom  that  nobleman  depended  for  the 
execution  of  the  charge  which  yearly  became  more  weari- 
some and  onerous,  as  hope  decayed  and  plots  thickened. 

Though  resident  in  the  new  lodge  with  her  train, 
it  was  greatly  diminished  by  the  dismissal  from  time 
to  time  of  persons  who  were  regarded  as  suspicious; 
Mary  still  continued  on  intimate  terms  with  Lady 
Shrewsbury  and  her  daughters,  specially  distinguishing 
with  her  favour  Bessie  Pierrepoint,  the  eldest  grandchild 
of  the  Countess,  who  slept  with  her,  and  was  her  play- 
thing and  her  pupil  in  French  and  needlework.  The 
fiction  of  her  being  guest  and  not  prisoner  had  not 
entirely  passed  away ;  visitors  were  admitted,  and  she 
went  in  and  out  of  the  lodge,  walked  or  rode  at  will, 
only  under  pretext  of  courtesy.  She  never  was  un- 
accompanied by  the  Earl  or  one  of  his  sons,  and  they 
endeavoured  to  make  all  private  conversation  with 
strangers,  or  persons  unauthorised  from  Court,  im- 
possible to  her. 


IV.]         THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         53 

The  invitation  given  to  little  Cicely  on  the 
arrival  had  not  been  followed  up.  The  Countess  wished 
to  reserve  to  her  own  family  all  the  favours  of  one  who 
might  at  any  moment  become  the  Queen  of  England, 
and  she  kept  Susan  Talbot  and  her  children  in  what 
she  called  their  meet  place,  in  which  that  good  lady 
thoroughly  acquiesced,  having  her  hands  much  too  full 
of  household  affairs  to  run  after  queens. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  this  child's 
play,  a  thing  which  had  much  better  have  been  left 
where  it  was ;  but  in  a  seclusion  like  that  of  Sheffield 
subjects  of  conversation  were  not  over  numerous,  and 
every  topic  which  occurred  was  apt  to  be  worried  to 
shreds.  So  Lady  Shrewsbury  and  her  daughters  heard 
the  Queen's  arch  description  of  the  children's  mimicry, 
and  instantly  conceived  a  desire  to  see  the  scene 
repeated.  The  gentlemen  did  not  like  it  at  all :  their 
loyalty  was  offended  at  the  insult  to  her  gracious 
Majesty,  and  besides,  what  might  not  happen  if  such 
sports  ever  came  to  her  ears  ?  However,  the  Countess 
ruled  Sheffield ;  and  Mary  Talbot  and  Bessie  Cavendish 
ruled  the  Countess,  and  they  were  bent  on  their  own 
way.  So  the  representation  was  to  take  place  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  manor-house,  and  the  actors  were  to 
be  dressed  in  character  from  my  lady's  stores. 

"  They  will  ruin  it,  these  clumsy  English,  after  their 
own  fashion,"  said  Queen  Mary,  among  her  ladies.  "  It 
was  the  unpremeditated  grace  and  innocent  audacity  of 
the  little  ones  that  gave  the  charm.  Now  it  will  be  a 
mere  broad  farce,  worthy  of  Bess  of  Hardwicke.  Mais 
qtoe  voulez  vous  V 

The  performance  was,  however,  laid  under  a  great 
disadvantage  by  the  absolute  refusal  of  Eichard  and 
Susan  Talbot  to  allow  their  Cicely  to  assume  the  part 


54  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

of  Queen  Elizabeth.  They  had  been  dismayed  at  her 
doing  so  in  child's  play,  and  since  she  could  read 
fluently,  write  pretty  well,  and  cipher  a  little,  the  good 
mother  had  decided  to  put  a  stop  to  this  free  associa- 
tion with  the  boys  at  the  castle,  and  to  keep  her  at 
home  to  study  needlework  and  housewifery.  As  to 
her  acting  with  boys  before  the  assembled  households, 
the  proposal  seemed  to  them  absolutely  insulting  to 
any  daughter  of  the  Talbot  line,  and  they  had  by  this 
time  forgotten  that  she  was  no  such  thing.  Bess 
Cavendish,  the  special  spoilt  child  of  the  house, 
even  rode  down,  armed  with  her  mother's  commands, 
but  her  feudal  feeling  did  not  here  sway  Mistress 
Susan. 

Public  acting  was  esteemed  an  indignity  for  women, 
and,  though  Cis  was  a  mere  child,  all  Susan's  woman- 
hood awoke,  and  she  made  answer  firmly  that  she 
could  not  obey  my  Lady  Countess  in  this. 

Bess  flounced  out  of  the  house,  indignantly  telling 
her  she  should  rue  the  day,  and  Cis  herself  cried  pas- 
sionately, longing  after  the  fine  robes  and  jewels,  and 
the  presentation  of  herself  as  a  queen  before  the  whole 
company  of  the  castle.  The  harsh  system  of  the  time 
made  the  good  mother  think  it  her  duty  to  requite 
this  rebellion  with  the  rod,  and  to  set  the  child  down 
to  her  seam  in  the  corner,  and  there  sat  Cis,  pouting 
and  brooding  over  what  Antony  Babington  had  told 
her  of  what  he  had  picked  up  when  in  his  page's 
capacity,  attending  his  lady,  of  Queen  Mary's  admira- 
tion of  the  pretty  ways  and  airs  of  the  little  mimic 
Queen  Bess,  till  she  felt  as  if  she  were  defrauded  of 
her  due.  The  captive  Queen  was  her  dream,  and  to 
hear  her  commendations,  perhaps  be  kissed  by  her, 
would  be   supreme   bliss.     Nay,  she  still  hoped  that 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         55 

there  would  be  an  interference  of  the  higher  powers 
on  her  behalf,  which  would  give  her  a  triumph. 

jSTo  !  Captain  Talbot  came  home,  saying,  "  So, 
Mistress  Sue,  thou  art  a  steadfast  woman,  to  have 
resisted  my  lady's  will !  " 

"I  knew,  my  good  husband,  that  thou  wouldst 
never  see  our  Cis  even  in  sport  a  player  ! " 

"  Assuredly  not,  and  thou  hadst  the  best  of  it,  for 
when  Mistress  Bess  came  in  as  full  of  wrath  as  a 
petard  of  powder,  and  made  your  refusal  known,  my 
lord  himself  cried  out,  '  And  she's  in  the  right  o't ! 
What  a  child  may  do  in  sport  is  not  fit  for  a  gentle- 
woman in  earnest.' " 

"  Then,  hath  not  my  lord  put  a  stop  to  the  whole  ?  " 

"  Fain  would  he  do  so,  but  the  Countess  and  her 
daughters  are  set  on  carrying  out  the  sport.  They 
have  set  Master  Sniggius  to  indite  the  speeches,  and 
the  boys  of  the  school  are  to  take  the  parts  for  their 
autumn  interlude." 

"  Surely  that  is  perilous,  should  it  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  those  at  Court." 

"  Oh,  I  promise  you,  Sniggius  hath  a  device  for 
disguising  all  that  could  give  offence.  The  Queen 
will  become  Semiramis  or  Zenobia,  I  know  not  which, 
and  my  Lord  of  Leicester,  Master  Hatton,  and  the 
others,  will  be  called  Mnus  or  Longinus,  or  some 
such  heathenish  long-tailed  terms,  and  speak  speeches 
of  mighty  length.  Are  they  to  be  in  Latin,  Hum- 
frey?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,"  said  Humfrey,  with  a  shudder. 
"  Master  Sniggius  woidd  have  had  them  so,  but  the 
young  ladies  said  they  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  affair  if  there  were  one  word  of  Latin  uttered.  It 
is  bad  enough  as  it  is.      I  am  to  be  Philidaspes,  an 


56  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

Assyrian  knight,  and  have  some  speeches  to  learn, 
at  least  one  is  twenty-five  lines,  and  not  one  is  less 
than  five ! " 

"  A  right  requital  for  thy  presumptuous  and  treason- 
able game,  my  son,"  said  his  father,  teasing  him. 

"  And  who  is  to  be  the  Queen  ? "  asked  the  mother. 

"Antony  Babington,"  said  Humfrey,  "because  he 
can  amble  and  mince  more  like  a  wench  than  any  of 
us.  The  worse  luck  for  him.  He  will  have  more 
speeches  than  any  one  of  us  to  learn." 

The  report  of  the  number  of  speeches  to  be  learnt 
took  off  the  sting  of  Cis's  disappointment,  though  she 
would  not  allow  that  it  did  so,  declaring  with  truth 
that  she  could  learn  by  hearing  faster  than  any  of  the 
boys.  Indeed,  she  did  learn  all  Humfrey's  speeches, 
and  Antony's  to  boot,  and  assisted  both  of  them  with 
all  her  might  in  committing  them  to  memory. 

As  Captain  Talbot  had  foretold,  the  boys'  sport 
was  quite  sufficiently  punished  by  being  made  into 
earnest.  Master  Sniggius  was  far  from  merciful  as  to 
length,  and  his  satire  was  so  extremely  remote  that 
Queen  Elizabeth  herself  could  hardly  have  found  out 
that  Zenobia's  fine  moral  lecture  on  the  vanities  of  too 
aspiring  ruffs  was  founded  on  the  box  on  the  ear  which 
rewarded  poor  Lady  Mary  Howard's  display  of  her 
rich  petticoat,  nor  would  her  cheeks  have  tingled  when 
the  Queen  of  the  East — by  a  bold  adaptation — played 
the  part  of  Lion  in  interrupting  the  interview  of  our 
old  friends  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  who,  by  an  awful 
anachronism,  were  carried  to  Palmyra.  It  was  no 
plagiarism  from  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  only 
drawn  from  the  common  stock  of  playwrights. 

So,  shorn  of  all  that  was  perilous,  and  only  under- 
stood by  the  initiated,  the  play  took  place  insthe  Castle 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         57 

Hall,  the  largest  available  place,  with  Queen  Mary 
seated  upon  the  dais,  with  a  canopy  of  State  over  her 
head,  Lady  Shrewsbury  on  a  chair  nearly  as  high,  the 
Earl,  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  their  suites  drawn 
up  in  a  circle,  the  servants  where  they  could,  the 
Earl's  musicians  thundering  with  drums,  tooting  with 
fifes,  twanging  on  fiddles,  overhead  in  a  gallery.  Cis 
and  Diccon,  on  either  side  of  Susan  Talbot,  gazing  on 
the  stage,  where,  much  encumbered  by  hoop  and  far- 
thingale, and  arrayed  in  a  yellow  curled  wig,  strutted 
forth  Antony  Babington,  declaiming — 

"  Great  Queen  Zenobia  am  I, 
The  Roman  Power  I  defy. 
At  my  Palmyra,  in  the  East, 
I  rule  o'er  every  man  and  beast." 

Here  was  an  allusion  couched  in  the  Eoman  power, 
which  Master  Antony  had  missed,  or  he  would  hardly 
have  uttered  it,  since  he  was  of  a  Eoman  Catholic 
family,  though,  while  in  the  Earl's  household,  he  had 
to  conform  outwardly. 

A  slender,  scholarly  lad,  with  a  pretty,  innocent 
face,  and  a  voice  that  could  "speak  small,  like  a 
woman,"  came  in  and  announced  himself  thus — 

"  I'm  Thisbe,  an  Assyrian  maid, 
My  robe's  with  jewels  overlaid." 

The  stiff  colloquy  between  the  two  boys,  encumbered 
with  their  dresses,  shy  and  awkward,  and  rehearsing 
their  lines  like  a  task,  was  no  small  contrast  to  the 
merry  impromptu  under  the  oak,  and  the  gay,  free 
grace  of  the  children. 

Poor  Philidaspes  acquitted  himself  worst  of  all,  for 
when  done  up  in  a  glittering  suit  of  sham  armour,  with 


58  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

a  sword  and  dagger  of  lath,  his  entire  speech,  though 
well  conned,  deserted  him,  and  he  stood  red-faced, 
hesitating,  and  ready  to  cry,  when  suddenly  from  the 
midst  of  the  spectators  there  issued  a  childish  voice, 
"  Go  on,  Humfrey  ! 

"  Philidaspes  am  I,  most  valorous  knight, 
Ever  ready  for  Church  and  Queen  to  fight. 

"  Go  on,  I  say !"  and  she  gave  a  little  stamp  of 
impatience,  to  the  extreme  confusion  of  the  mother  and 
the  great  amusement  of  the  assembled  company. 
Humfrey,  once  started,  delivered  himself  of  the  rest  of 
his  oration  in  a  glum  and  droning  voice,  occasioning 
fits  of  laughter,  such  as  by  no  means  added  to  his  self- 
possession. 

The  excellent  Sniggius  and  his  company  of  boys 
had  certainly,  whether  intentionally  or  not,  deprived 
the  performance  of  all  its  personal  sting,  and  most 
likewise  of  its  interest.  Such  diversion  as  the  specta- 
tors derived  was  such  as  Hippolyta  seems  to  have  found 
in  listening  to  Wall,  Lion,  Moonshine  and  Co. ;  but, 
like  Theseus,  Lord  Shrewsbury  was  very  courteous,  and 
complimented  both  playwright  and  actors,  relieved  and 
thankful,  no  doubt,  that  Queen  Zenobia  was  so  unlike 
his  royal  mistress. 

There  was  nothing  so  much  enforced  by  Queen 
Elizabeth  as  that  strangers  should  not  have  resort  to 
Sheffield  Castle.  JSTo  spectators,  except  those  attached 
to  the  household,  and  actually  forming  part  of  the 
colony  within  the  park,  were  therefore  supposed  to  be 
admitted,  and  all  of  them  were  carefully  kept  at  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  hall,  where  they  could  have  no  access 
to  the  now  much  reduced  train  of  the  Scottish  Queen, 
with  whom  all  intercourse  was  forbidden. 


IV.]         THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         59 

Humfrey  was  therefore  surprised  when,  just  as  he 
had  come  out  of  the  tiring-room,  glad  to  divest  himself 
of  his  encumbering  and  gaudy  equipments,  a  man 
touched  him  on  the  arm  and  humbly  said,  "  Sir,  I  have 
a  humble  entreaty  to  make  of  you.  If  you  would 
convey  my  petition  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  !" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Queen  of  Scots,"' 
said  the  ex-Philidaspes,  glancing  suspiciously  at  the 
man's  sleeve,  where,  however,  he  saw  the  silver  dog, 
the  family  badge. 

"  She  is  a  charitable  lady,"  continued  the  man,  who 
looked  like  a  groom,  "  and  if  she  only  knew  that  my 
poor  old  aunt  is  lying  famishing,  she  would  aid  her. 
Pray  you,  good  my  lord,  help  me  to  let  this  scroll 
reach  to  her." 

"  I'm  no  lord,  and  I  have  naught  to  do  with  the 
Queen,"  repeated  Humfrey,  while  at  the  same  moment 
Antony,  who  had  been  rather  longer  in  getting  out  of 
his  female  attire,  presented  himself ;  and  Humfrey,  pity- 
ing the  man's  distress,  said,  "  This  young  gentleman  is 
the  Countess's  page.     He  sometimes  sees  the  Queen." 

The  man  eagerly  told  his  story,  how  his  aunt,  the 
widow  of  a  huckster,  had  gone  on  with  the  trade  till 
she  had  been  cruelly  robbed  and  beaten,  and  now  was 
utterly  destitute,  needing  aid  to  set  herself  up  again. 
The  Queen  of  Scots  was  noted  for  her  beneficent  alms- 
giving, and  a  few  silver  pieces  from  her  would  be  quite 
sufficient  to  replenish  her  basket. 

Xeither  boy  doubted  a  moment.  Antony  had  the 
entrde  to  the  presence  chamber,  where  on  this  festival 
night  the  Earl  and  Countess  were  sure  to  be  with  the 
Queen.  He  went  straightway  thither,  and  trained  as 
he  was  in  the  usages  of  the  place,  told  his  business 
to  the  Earl,  who  was  seated  near  the  Queen.     Lord 


60  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Shrewsbury  took  the  petition  from  him,  glanced  it 
over,  and  asked.  "  Who  knew  the  Guy  Norman  who  sent 
it?"  Frank  Talbot  answered  for  him,  that  he  was  a 
yeoman  pricker,  and  the  Earl  permitted  the  paper  to  be 
carried  to  Mary,  watching  her  carefully  as  she  read  it, 
when  Antony  had  presented  it  on  one  knee. 

"  Poor  woman !"  she  said,  "  it  is  a  piteous  case. 
Master  Beatoun,  hast  thou  my  purse  ?  Here,  Master 
Babington,  wilt  thou  be  the  bearer  of  this  angel  for 
me,  since  I  know  that  the  delight  of  being  the  bearer 
will  be  a  reward  to  thy  kind  heart." 

Antony  gracefully  kissed  the  fair  hand,  and  ran 
off  joyously  with  the  Queen's  bounty.  Little  did  any 
one  guess  what  the  career  thus  begun  would  bring  that 
fair  boy. 


V.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  61 


CHAPTEK  V. 

THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN. 

The  huckstering  woman,  Tibbott  by  name,  was  tended 
by  Queen  Mary's  apothecary,  and  in  due  time  was  sent 
off  well  provided,  to  the  great  fair  of  York,  whence 
she  returned  with  a  basket  of  needles,  pins  (such  as 
they  were),  bodkins,  and  the  like  articles,  wherewith  to 
circulate  about  Hallamshire,  but  the  gate-wards  would 
not  relax  their  rules  so  far  as  to  admit  her  into  the 
park.  She  was  permitted,  however,  to  bring  her  wares 
to  the  town  of  Sheffield,  and  to  Bridgefield,  but  she 
might  come  no  farther. 

Thither  Antony  Babington  came  down  to  lay  out 
the  crown  which  had  been  given  to  him  on  his  birth- 
day, and  indeed  half  Master  Sniggius's  scholars  dis- 
covered needs,  and  came  down  either  to  spend,  or  to 
give  advice  to  the  happy  owners  of  groats  and  testers. 
So  far  so  good ;  but  the  huckster- woman  soon  made 
Bridgefield  part  of  her  regular  rounds,  and  took  little 
commissions  which  she  executed  for  the  household  of 
Sheffield,  who  were,  as  the  Cavendish  sisters  often  said 
in  their  spleen,  almost  as  much  prisoners  as  the  Queen 
of  Scots.  Antony  Babington  was  always  her  special 
patron,  and  being  Humfrey's  great  companion  and  play- 
fellow, he  was  allowed  to  come  in  and  out  of  the  gates 


62  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

unquestioned,  to  play  with  him  and  with  Cis,  who  no 
longer  went  to  school,  but  was  trained  at  home  in 
needlework  and  housewifery. 

Match-making  began  at  so  early  an  age,  that  when 
Mistress  Susan  had  twice  found  her  and  Antony 
Babington  with  their  heads  together  over  the  lament- 
able ballad  of  the  cold  fish  that  had  been  a  lady,  and 
which  sang  its  own  history  "forty  thousand  fathom 
above  water,"  she  began  to  question  whether  the  girl 
were  the  attraction.  He  was  now  an  orphan,  and  his 
wardship  and  marriage  had  been  granted  to  the  Earl, 
who,  having  disposed  of  all  his  daughters  and  step- 
daughters, except  Bessie  Cavendish,  might  very  fairly 
bestow  on  the  daughter  of  his  kinsman  so  good  a 
match  as  the  young  squire  of  Dethick. 

"  Then  should  we  have  to  consider  of  her  parentage," 
said  Eichard,  when  his  wife  had  propounded  her  views. 

"  I  never  can  bear  in  mind  that  the  dear  wench  is 
none  of  ours,"  said  Susan.  "  Thou  didst  say  thou 
wouldst  portion  her  as  if  she  were  our  own  little  maid, 
and  I  have  nine  webs  ready  for  her  household  linen. 
Must  we  speak  of  her  as  a  stranger?" 

"  It  would  scarce  be  just  towards  another  family  to 
let  them  deem  her  of  true  Talbot  blood,  if  she  were  to 
enter  among  them,"  said  Eichard ;  "  though  I  look  on 
the  little  merry  maid  as  if  she  were  mine  own  child. 
But  there  is  no  need  yet  to  begin  upon  any  such  coil ; 
and,  indeed,  I  would  wager  that  my  lady  hath  other 
views  for  young  Babington." 

After  all,  parents  often  know  very  little  of  what 
passes  in  children's  minds,  and  Cis  never  hinted  to  her 
mother  that  the  bond  of  union  between  her  and  Antony 
was  devotion  to  the  captive  Queen.  Cis  had  only  had  a 
glimpse  or  two  of  her,  riding  by  when  hunting  or  hawk- 


V.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN,  G3 

ing,  or  when,  on  festive  occasions,  all  who  were  privileged 
to  enter  the  park  were  mustered  together,  among  whom 
the  Talbots  ranked  high  as  kindred  to  both  Earl  and 
Countess ;  but  those  glimpses  had  been  enough  to  fill 
the  young  heart  with  romance,  such  as  the  matter-of- 
fact  elders  never  guessed  at.  Antony  Babington,  who 
was  often  actually  in  the  gracious  presence,  and  received 
occasional  smiles,  and  even  greetings,  was  immeasur- 
ably devoted  to  the  Queen,  and  maintained  Cicely's 
admiration  by  his  vivid  descriptions  of  the  kindness, 
the  grace,  the  charms  of  the  royal  captive,  in  con- 
trast with  the  innate  vulgarity  of  their  own  Countess. 

Willie  Douglas  (the  real  Eoland  Grserae  of  the 
escape  from  Lochleven)  had  long  ago  been  dismissed 
from  Mary's  train,  with  all  the  other  servants  who  were 
deemed  superfluous  ;  but  Antony  had  heard  the  details 
of  the  story  from  Jean  Kennedy  (Mrs.  Kennett,  as  the 
English  were  pleased  to  call  her),  and  Willie  was  the 
hero  of  his  emulative  imagination. 

"  What  would  I  not  do  to  be  like  him!"  he  fervently 
exclaimed  when  he  had  narrated  the  story  to  Humfrey 
and  Cis,  as  they  lay  on  a  nest  in  the  fern  one  fine 
autumn  day,  resting  after  an  expedition  to  gather 
blackberries  for  the  mother's  preserving. 

"  I  would  not  be  him  for  anything,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  Eie,  Humfrey,"  cried  Cis ;  "  would  not  you  dare 
exile  or  anything  else  in  a  good  cause  ? " 

"  Eor  a  good  cause,  ay,"  said  Humfrey  in  his  stolid 
way. 

"  And  what  can  be  a  better  cause  than  that  of  the 
fairest  of  captive  queens  ? "  exclaimed  Antony,  hotly. 

"  I  would  not  be  a  traitor,"  returned  Humfrey,  as 
he  lay  on  his  back,  looking  up  through  the  chequer- 
work  of  the  branches  of  the  trees  towards  the  sky. 


64  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Who  dares  link  the  word  traitor  with  my  name  V 
said  Babington,  feeling  for  the  imaginary  handle  of  a 
sword. 

"  Not  I ;  but  you'll  get  it  linked  if  you  go  on  in 
this  sort." 

"  For  shame,  Humfrey,"  again  cried  Cis,  passion- 
ately. "  Why,  delivering  imprisoned  princesses  always 
was  the  work  of  a  true  knight." 

"  Yea  ;  but  they  first  defied  the  giant  openly,"  said 
Humfrey. 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  said  Antony. 

"  They  did  not  do  it  under  trust,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  I  am  not  under  trust,"  said  Antony.  "  Your 
father  may  be  a  sworn  servant  of  the  Earl  and  the 
Queen — Queen  Elizabeth,  I  mean  ;  but  I  have  taken 
no  oaths — nobody  asked  me  if  I  would  come  here." 

"  No,"  said  Humfrey,  knitting  his  brows  ;  "  but  you 
see  we  are  all  trusted  to  go  in  and  out  as  we  please, 
on  the  understanding  that  we  do  nought  that  can  be 
unfaithful  to  the  Earl ;  and  I  suppose  it  was  thus  with 
this  same  Willie  Douglas." 

"  She  was  his  own  true  and  lawful  Queen,"  cried 
Cis.      "  His  first  duty  was  to  her." 

Humfrey  sat  up  and  looked  perplexed,  but  with 
a  sudden  thought  exclaimed,  "  No  Scots  are  we,  thanks 
be  to  Heaven  !  and  what  might  be  loyalty  in  him 
would  be  rank  treason  in  us." 

"  How  know  you  that  ? "  said  Antony.  "  I  have 
heard  those  who  say  that  our  lawful  Queen  is  there," 
and  he  pointed  towards  the  walls  that  rose  in  the  dis- 
tance above  the  woods. 

Humfrey  rose  wrathful.  "  Then  truly  you  are  no 
better  than  a  traitor,  and  a  Spaniard,  and  a  Papist," 
and  fists  were  clenched  on  both  sides,  while  Cis  flew 


V.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN".  G5 

between,  pulling  down  Humfrey's  uplifted  hand,  and 
crying,  "  No,  no  ;  he  did  not  say  he  thought  so,  only 
he  had  heard  it," 

"  Let  him  say  it  again  ! "  growled  Antony,  his  arm 
bared. 

"  No,  don't,  Humfrey  !  "  as  if  she  saw  it  between  his 
clenched  teeth.  "  You  know  you  only  meant  if  Tony 
thought  so,  and  he  didn't.  Now  how  can  you  two  be 
so  foolish  and  unkind  to  me,  to  bring  me  out  for  a 
holiday  to  eat  blackberries  and  make  heather  crowns, 
and  then  go  and  spoil  it  all  with  folly  about  Papists, 
and  Spaniards,  and  grown-up  people's  nonsense  that 
nobody  cares  about  ! " 

Cis  had  a  rare  power  over  both  her  comrades,  and 
her  piteous  appeal  actually  disarmed  them,  since  there 
was  no  one  present  to  make  them  ashamed  of  their 
own  placability.  Grown  -  up  people's  follies  were 
avoided  by  mutual  consent  through  the  rest  of  the 
walk,  and  the  three  children  parted  amicably  when 
Antony  had  to  return  to  fulfil  his  page's  duties  at  my 
lord's  supper,  and  Humfrey  and  Cis  carried  home  their 
big  basket  of  blackberries. 

When  they  entered  their  own  hall  they  found  their 
mother  engaged  in  conversation  with  a  tall,  stout,  and 
weather-beaten  man,  whom  she  announced — "  See  here, 
my  children,  here  is  a  good  friend  of  your  father's, 
Master  Goatley,  who  was  his  chief  mate  in  all  his 
voyages,  and  hath  now  come  over  all  the  way  from 
Hull  to  see  him  !  He  will  be  here  anon,  sir,  so  soon 
as  the  guard  is  changed  at  the  Queen's  lodge.  Mean- 
time, here  are  the  elder  children." 

Diccon,  who  had  been  kept  at  home  by  some  tem- 
porary damage  to  his  foot,  and  little  Edward  were 
devouring  the   sailor  with   their  eyes  ;  and  Humfrey 

VOL.  I.  F 


66  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

and  Cis  were  equally  delighted  with  the  introduction, 
especially  as  Master  Goatley  was  just  returned  from 
the  Western  Main,  and  from  a  curious  grass-woven 
basket  which  he  carried  slung  to  his  side,  produced 
sundry  curiosities  in  the  way  of  beads,  shell-work, 
feather-work,  and  a  hatchet  of  stone,  and  even  a  curious 
armlet  of  soft,  dull  gold,  with  pearls  set  in  it.  This 
he  had,  with  great  difficulty,  obtained  on  purpose  for 
Mistress  Talbot,  who  had  once  cured  him  of  a  bad 
festering  hurt  received  on  board  ship. 

The  children  clustered  round  in  ecstasies  of  admira- 
tion and  wonder  as  they  heard  of  the  dark  brown 
natives,  the  curious  expedients  by  which  barter  was 
carried  on  ;  also  of  cruel  Spaniards,  and  of  savage 
fishes,  with  all  the  marvels  of  flying-fish,,  corals,  palm- 
trees,  humming  birds — all  that  is  lesson  work  to  our 
modern  youth,  but  was  the  most  brilliant  of  living 
fairy  tales  at  this  Elizabethan  period.  Humfrey  and 
Diccon  were  ready  to  rush  off  to  voyage  that  instant, 
and  even  little  Ned  cried  imitatively  in  his  imperfect 
language  that  he  would  be  "  a  tailor." 

Then  their  father  came  home,  and  joyfully  wel- 
comed and  clasped  hands  with  his  faithful  mate, 
declaring  that  the  sight  did  him  good  ;  and  they  sat 
down  to  supper  and  talked  of  voyages,  till  the  boys' 
eyes'  glowed,  and  they  beat  upon  their  own  knees  with 
the  enthusiasm  that  their  strict  manners  bade  them 
repress  ;  while  their  mother  kept  back  her  sighs  as 
she  saw  them  becoming  infected  with  that  sea  fever  so 
dreaded  by  parents.  Nay,  she  saw  it  in  her  husband 
himself.  She  knew  him  to  be  grievously  weary  of  a 
charge  most  monotonously  dull,  and  only  varied  by 
suspicions  and  petty  detections ;  and  that  he  was 
hungering  and  thirsting  for  his  good  ship  and  to  be- 


V.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  67 

facing  winds  and  waves.  She  could  hear  his  lonmncr  in 
the  very  sound  of  the  "  Ays  ? "  and  brief  inquiries  by 
which  he  encouraged  Goatley  to  proceed  in  the  story 
of  voyages  and  adventures,  and  she  could  not  wonder 
when  Goatley  said,  "  Your  heart  is  in  it  still,  sir. 
Xot  one  of  us  all  but  says  it  is  a  pity  such  a  noble 
captain  should  be  lost  as  a  landsman,  with  nothing  to 
do  but  to  lock  the  door  on  a  lady." 

"  Speak  not  of  it,  my  good  Goatley,"  said  Richard, 
hastily,  "  or  you  will  set  me  dreaming  and  make  me 
mad." 

"  Then  it  is  indeed  so,"  returned  Goatley.  "  "Where- 
fore then  come  you  not,  sir,  where  a  crew  is  waiting  for 
you  of  as  good  fellows  as  ever  stepped  on  a  deck,  and 
who,  one  and  all,  are  longing  after  such  a  captain 
as  you  are,  sir  ?  Wherefore  hold  back  while  still  in 
your  prime  ?  " 

"  Ask  the  mistress,  there,"  said  Eicharcl,  as  he  saw 
his  Susan's  white  face  and  trembling  ringers,  though 
she  kept  her  eyes  on  her  work  to  prevent  them  from 
betraying  their  tears  and  their  wistfulness. 

"  0  sweet  father,"  burst  forth  Humfrey,  "  do  but 
go,  and  take  me.      I  am  quite  old  enough." 

"  Nay,  Humfrey,  'tis  no  matter  of  liking,"  said  his 
father,  not  wishing  to  prolong  his  wife's  suspense. 
"  Look  you  here,  boy,  my  Lord  Earl  is  captain  of  all 
of  his  name  by  right  of  birth,  and  so  long  as  he  needs 
my  services,  I  have  no  right  to  take  them  from  him. 
Dost  see,  my  boy  ?  " 

Humfrey  reluctantly  did  see.  It  was  a  great  favour 
to  be  thus  argued  with,  and  admitted  of  no  reply. 

Mrs.  Talbot's  heart  rejoiced,  but  she  was  not  sorry 
that  it  was  time  for  her  to  carry  off  Diccon  and  Ned  to 
their  beds,  away  from  the  fascinating  narrative,  and  she 


68  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

would  give  no  respite,  though  Diccon  pleaded  hard. 
In  fact,  the  danger  might  be  the  greatest  to  him,  since 
Humfrey,  though  born  within  the  smell  of  the  sea, 
might  be  retained  by  the  call  of  duty  like  his  father.  To 
Cis,  at  least,  she  thought  the  sailor's  conversation  could 
do  no  harm,  little  foreboding  the  words  that  presently 
ensued.  "  And,  sir,  what  befell  the  babe  we  found  in 
our  last  voyage  off  the  Spurn  ?  It  would  methinks  be 
about  the  age  of  this  pretty  mistress." 

Eichard  Talbot  endeavoured  to  telegraph  a  look 
both  of  assent  and  warning,  but  though  Master 
Ooatley  would  have  been  sharp  to  detect  the  least 
token  of  a  Spanish  galleon  on  the  most  distant  horizon, 
the  signal  fell  utterly  short.  "  Ay,  sir.  What,  is  it 
so  ?  Bless  me  !  The  very  maiden  !  And  you  have 
bred  her  up  for  your  own." 

"  Sir !  Father  !  "  cried  Cis,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other,  with  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open. 

"  Soh  ! "  cried  the  sailor,  "  what  have  I  done  ?  I 
beg  your  pardon,  sir,  if  I  have  overhauled  what 
should  have  been  let  alone.  But,"  continued  the 
honest,  but  tactless  man,  "  who  could  have  thought  of 
the  like  of  that,  and  that  the  pretty  maid  never  knew 
it  ?  Ay,  ay,  dear  heart.  Never  fear  but  that  the 
captain  will  be  good  father  to  you  all  the  same." 

For  Eichard  Talbot  had  held  out  his  arm,  and, 
as  Cis  ran  up  to  him,  he  had  seated  her  on  his 
knee,  and  held  her  close  to  him.  Humfrey  likewise 
started  up  with  an  impulse  to  contradict,  which  was 
suddenly  cut  short  by  a  strange  flash  of  memory,  so 
all  he  did  was  to  come  up  to  his  father,  and  grasp 
one  of  the  girl's  hands  as  fast  as  he  could.  She 
trembled  and  shivered,  but  there  was  something  in  the 
presence  of  this  strange  man  which  choked  back  all 


V  ]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  69 

inquiry,  and  the  silence,  the  vehement  grasp,  and  the 
shuddering,  alarmed  the  captain,  lest  she  might  sud- 
denly go  off  into  a  fit  upon  his  hands. 

"  This  is  gear  for  mother,"  said  he,  and  taking  her 
up  like  a  baby,  carried  her  off,  followed  closely  by 
Humfrey.  He  met  Susan  coming  down,  asking 
anxiously,  "  Is  she  sick  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  mother,"  he  said,  "  but  honest  Goatley, 
thinking  no  harm,  hath  blurted  out  that  which  we 
had  never  meant  her  to  know,  at  least  not  yet  awhile, 
and  it  hath  wrought  strangely  with  her." 

"  Then  it  is  true,  father  ? "  said  Humfrey,  in  rather 
an  awe-stricken  voice,  while  Cis  still  buried  her  face 
on  the  captain's  breast. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  yea,  my  children,  it  is  true  that 
God  sent  us  a  daughter  from  the  sea  and  the  wreck 
when  He  had  taken  our  own  little  maid  to  His  rest. 
But  we  have  ever  loved  our  Cis  as  well,  and  hope 
ever  to  do  so  while  she  is  our  good  child.  Take 
her,  mother,  and  tell  the  children  how  it  befell ;  if  I 
go  not  down,  the  fellow  will  spread  it  all  over  the 
house,  and  happily  none  were  present  save  Humfrey 
and  the  little  maiden." 

Susan  put  the  child  down  on  her  own  bed,  and 
there,  with  Humfrey  standing  by,  told  the  history  of 
the  father  carrying  in  the  little  shipwrecked  babe. 
They  both  listened  with  eyes  devouring  her,  but  they 
were  as  yet  too  young  to  ask  questions  about  evi- 
dences, and  Susan  did  not  volunteer  these,  only  when  the 
girl  asked,  "  Then,  have  I  no  name  ?  "  she  answered, 
"  A  godly  minister,  Master  Heatherthwayte,  gave  thee 
the  name  of  Cicely  when  he  christened  thee." 

"  I  marvel  who  I  am  ? "  said  Cis,  gazing  round  her, 
as  if  the  world  were  all  new  to  her. 


70  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

'•  It  does  not  matter/'  said  Humfrey,  "  you  are 
just  the  same  to  us,  is  she  not,  mother  ? " 

"  She  is  our  dear  Heaven-sent  child/'  said  the  mother 
tenderly. 

"  But  thou  art  not  my  true  mother,  nor  Humfrey 
nor  Diccon  my  brethren,"  she  said,  stretching  out  her 
hands  like  one  in  the  dark. 

"  If  I'm  not  your  brother,  Cis,  I'll  be  your  husband, 
and  then  you  will  have  a  real  right  to  be  called  Talbot. 
That's  better  than  if  you  were  my  sister,  for  then  you 
would  go  away,  I  don't  know  where,  and  now  you 
will  always  be  mine — mine — mine  very  own." 

And  as  he  gave  Cis  a  hug  in  assurance  of  his 
intentions/  his  father,  who  was  uneasy  about  the 
matter,  looked  in  again,  and  as  Susan,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  pointed  to  the  children,  the  good  man  said, 
"  By  my  faith,  the  boy  has  found  the  way  to  cut  the 
knot  —  or  rather  to  tie  it.  What  say  you,  dame  ? 
If  we  do  not  get  a  portion  for  him,  we  do  not  have  to 
give  one  with  her,  so  it  is  as  broad  as  it  is  long,  and  she 
remains  our  dear  child.  Only  listen,  children,  you  are 
both  old  enough  to  keep  a  secret.  Not  one  word  of  all 
this  matter  is  to  be  breathed  to  any  soul  till  I  bid  you." 

"  Not  to  Diccon,"  said  Humfrey  decidedly. 

"  Nor  to  Antony  ? "  asked  Cis  wistfully. 

"  To  Antony  ?  No,  indeed  !  What  has  he  to  do 
with  it  ?  Now,  to  your  beds,  children,  and  forget  all 
about  this  tale." 

"  There,  Humfrey,"  broke  out  Cis,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone  together,  "  Huckstress  Tibbott  is  a  wise 
woman,  whatever  thou  mayest  say." 

"  How  ?  "  said  Humfrey. 

"  Mindst  thou  not  the  day  when  I  crossed  her  hand 
with  the  tester  father  gave  me  ?  " 


V.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  71 

"When  mother  whipped  thee  for  listening  to  for- 
tune-tellers, and  wasting  thy  substance.  Ay,  I  mind 
it  well,"  said  Humfrey,  "  and  how  thou  didst  stand 
simpering  at  her  pack  of  lies,  ere  mother  made  thee 
sing  another  tune." 

"  Nay,  Humfrey,  they  were  no  lies,  though  I  thought 
them  so  then.  She  said  I  was  not  what  I  seemed, 
and  that  the  Talbots'  kennel  would  not  always  hold 
one  of  the  noble  northern  eagles.  So  Humfrey,  sweet 
Humfrey,  thou  must  not  make  too  sure  of  wedding 
me." 

"  I'll  wed  thee  though  all  the  lying  old  gipsy-wives 
in  England  wore  their  false  throats  out  in  screeching 
out  that  I  shall  not,"  cried  Humfrey. 

"  But  she  must  have  known,"  said  Cis,  in  an  awe- 
struck voice  ;  "  the  spirits  must  have  spoken  with  her, 
and  said  that  I  am  none  of  the  Talbots." 

"  Hath  mother  heard  this  ?  "  asked  Humfrey,  re- 
coiling a  little,  but  never  thinking  of  the  more  plau- 
sible explanation. 

"  Oh  no,  no !  tell  her  not,  Humfrey,  tell  her  not. 
She  said  she  would  whip  me  again  if  ever  I  talked 
again  of  the  follies  that  the  fortune-telling  woman  had 
gulled  me  with,  for  if  they  were  not  deceits,  they  were 
worse.      And,  thou  seest,  they  are  worse,  Humfrey  ! " 

With  which  awe-stricken  conclusion  the  children 
went  off  to  bed. 


72  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE. 

A  child's  point  of  view  is  so  different  from  that  of  a 
grown  person,  that  the  discovery  did  not  make  half 
so  much  difference  to  Cis  as  her  adopted  parents 
expected.  In  fact  it  was  like  a  dream  to  her.  She 
found  her  daily  life  and  her  surroundings  the  same, 
and  her  chief  interest  was — at  least  apparently — how- 
soon  she  could  escape  from  psalter  and  seam,  to  play 
with  little  Ned,  and  look  out  for  the  elder  boys  return- 
ing, or  watch  for  the  Scottish  Queen  taking  her  daily 
ride.  Once,  prompted  by  Antony,  Cis  had  made  a 
beautiful  nosegay  of  lilies  and  held  it  up  to  the  Queen 
when  she  rode  in  at  the  gate  on  her  return  from 
Buxton.  She  had  been  rewarded  by  the  sweetest  of 
smiles,  but  Captain  Talbot  had  said  it  must  never 
happen  again,  or  he  should  be  accused  of  letting  billets 
pass  in  posies.  The  whole  place  was  pervaded,  in 
fact,  by  an  atmosphere  of  suspicion,  and  the  vigilance, 
which  might  have  been  endurable  for  a  few  months,  was 
wearing  the  spirits  and  temper  of  all  concerned,  now 
that  it  had  already  lasted  for  seven  or  eight  years,  and 
there  seemed  no  end  to  it.  Moreover,  in  spite  of  all 
care,  it  every  now  and  then  became  apparent  that 
Queen  Mary  had  some  communication  with  the  outer 


VI.  1  THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE.  73 

world  which  no  one  could  trace,  though  the  effects 
endangered  the  life  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  peace  of 
the  kingdom,  and  the  existence  of  the  English  Church. 
The  blame  always  fell  upon  Lord  Shrewsbury;  and 
who  could  wonder  that  he  was  becoming  captiously 
suspicious,  and  soured  in  temper,  so  that  even  such 
faithful  kinsmen  as  Eichard  Talbot  could  sometimes 
hardly  bear  with  him,  and  became  punctiliously  anxious 
that  there  should  not  !be  the  smallest  loophole  for  cen- 
sure of  the  conduct  of  himself  and  his  family  ? 

The  person  on  whom  Master  Goat-ley's  visit  had  left 
the  most  impression  seemed  to  be  Humfrey.  On  the 
one  hand,  his  father's  words  had  made  him  enter  into  his 
situation  of  trust  and  loyalty,  and  perceive  something 
of  the  constant  sacrifice  of  self  to  duty  that  it  required, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  assumed  a  position 
towards  Cis  of  which  he  in  some  degree  felt  the  force. 
There  was  .nothing  in  the  opinions  of  the  time  to 
render  their  semi-betrothal  ridiculous.  At  the  Manor- 
house  itself,  Gilbert  Talbot  and  Mary  Cavendish  had 
been  married  when  no  older  than  he  was ;  half  their 
contemporaries  were  already  plighted,  and  the  only 
difference  was  that  in  the  present  harassing  state  of 
surveillance  in  which  every  one  lived,  the  parents 
thought  that  to  avow  the  secret  so  long  kept  might 
bring  about  inquiry  and  suspicion,  and  they  therefore 
wished  it  to  be  guarded  till  the  marriage  could  be 
contracted.  As  Cis  developed,  she  had  looks  and  tones 
which  so  curiously  harmonised,  .now  with  the  Scotch, 
now  with  the  French  element  in  the  royal  captive's 
suite,  and  which  made  Captain  Eichard  believe  that 
she  must  belong  to  some  of  the  families  who  seemed 
amphibious  between  the  two  courts ;  and  her  identi- 
fication as  a  Seaton,  a  Elemyng,  a  Beatoun,  or  as  a  mem- 


74  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

ber  of  any  of  the  families  attached  to  the  losing  cause, 
would  only  involve  her  in  exile  and  disgrace.  Besides, 
there  was  every  reason  to  think  her  an  orphan,  and  a 
distant  kinsman  was  scarcely  likely  to  give  her  such  a 
home  as  she  had  at  Bridgefield,  where  she  had  always 
been  looked  on  as  a  daughter,  and  was  now  regarded 
as  doubly  their  own  in  right  of  their  son.  So  Hum- 
frey  was  permitted  to  consider  her  as  peculiarly  his 
own,  and  he  exerted  this  right  of  property  by  a 
certain  jealousy  of  Antony  Babington  which  amused 
his  parents,  and  teased  the  young  lady.  Nor  was 
he  wholly  actuated  by  the  jealousy  of  proprietor- 
ship, for  he  knew  the  devotion  with  which  Antony 
regarded  Queen  Mary,  and  did  not  wholly  trust  him. 
His  sense  of  honour  and  duty  to  his  father's  trust  was 
one  thing,  Antony's  knight-errantry  to  the  beautiful 
captive  was  another;  each  boy  thought  himself  strictly 
honourable,  while  they  moved  in  parallel  lines  and 
could  not  understand  one  another;  yet,  with  the 
reserve  of  childhood,  all  that  passed  between  them 
was  a  secret,  till  one  afternoon  when  loud  angry 
sounds  and  suppressed  sobs  attracted  Mistress  Susan 
to  the  garden,  where  she  found  Cis  crying  bitterly, 
and  little  Diccon  staring  eagerly,  while  a  pitched 
battle  was  going  on  between  her  eldest  son  and  young 
Antony  Babington,  who  were  pommelling  each  other 
too  furiously  to  perceive  her  approach. 

"  Boys  !  boys  !  fie  for  shame,"  she  cried,  with  a 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each,  and  they  stood  apart 
at  her  touch,  though  still  fiercely  looking  at  one 
another. 

"  See  what  spectacles  you  have  made  of  yourselves  '" 
she  continued.  "  Is  this  your  treatment  of  your  guest, 
Humfrey  ?     How  is  my  Lord's  page  to  show  himself  at 


VI.]  THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE.  75 

Chatsworth  to-morrow  with  such  an  eye  ?  Vvliat  is  it 
all  about?" 

Both  combatants  eyed  each  other  in  sullen  silence. 

"  Tell  me,  Cis.  Tell  me,  Diccon.  I  will  know,  or 
you  shall  have  the  rod  as  well  as  Humfrey." 

Diccon,  who  was  still  in  the  era  of  timidity,  in- 
stead of  secretiveness,  spoke  out.  "  He,"  indicating  his 
brother,  "wanted  the  packet." 

"What  packet?"  exclaimed  the  mother,  alarmed. 

"  The  packet  that  he  (another  nod  towards  Antony) 
wanted  Cis  to  give  that  witch  in  case  she  came  while 
he  is  at  Chatsworth." 

"  It  was  the  dog- whistle,"  said  Cis.  "  It  hath  no 
sound  in  it,  and  Antony  would  have  me  change  it  for 
him,  because  Huckster  Tibbott  may  not  come  within 
the  gates.  I  did  not  want  to  do  so ;  I  fear  Tibbott, 
and  when  Humfrey  found  me  crying  he  fell  on 
Antony.      So  blame  him  not,  mother." 

"  If  Humfrey  is  a  jealous  churl,  and  Cis  a  little 
fool,  there's  no  help  for  it,"  said  Antony,  disdainfully 
turning  his  back  on  his  late  adversary. 

"  Then  let  me  take  charge  of  this  whistle,"  re- 
turned the  lady,  moved  by  the  universal  habit  of 
caution,  but  Antony  sprang  hastily  to  intercept  her 
as  she  was  taking  from  the  little  girl  a  small  paper 
packet  tied  round  with  coloured  yarn,  but  he  was  not 
in  time,  and  could  only  exclaim,  "Nay,  nay,  madam,  I 
will  not  trouble  you.      It  is  nothing." 

"Master  Babington,"  said  Susan  firmly,  "you  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  no  packet  may  pass  out  of  the 
park  unopened.  If  you  wished  to  have  the  whistle 
changed  you  should  have  brought  it  uncovered.  I  am 
sorry  for  the  discourtesy,  and  ask  your  pardon,  but  this 
parcel  may  not  pass." 


76  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAF. 

"  Then/'  said  Antony,  with  difficulty  repressing 
something  much  more  passionate  and  disrespectful,  "  let 
me  have  it  again." 

"  Nay,  Master  Babington,  that  would  not  suit  with 
my  duty." 

The  boy  altogether  lost  his  temper.  "Duty!  duty!" 
he  cried.  "  I  am  sick  of  the  word.  All  it  means  is  a 
mere  feigned  excuse  for  prying  and  spying,  and  beset- 
ting the  most  beautiful  and  unhappy  princess  in  the 
world  for  her  true  faith  and  true  right !" 

"Master  Antony  Babington,"  said  Susan  gravely, 
r'  you  had  better  take  care  what  you  are  about.  If 
those  words  of  yours  had  been  spoken  in  my  Lord's 
hearing,  they  would  bring  you  worse  than  the  rod  or 
bread  and  water." 

"What  care  I  what  I  suffer  for  such  a  Queen?" 
exclaimed  Antony. 

"  Suffering  is  a  different  matter  from  saying  '  What 
care  1/  "  returned  the  lady,  "  as  I  fear  you  will  learn, 
Master  Antony." 

"  0  mother  !  sweet  mother,"  said  Cis,  "  you  will 
not  tell  of  him  !" — but  mother  shook  her  head. 

"  Prithee,  dear  mother,"  added  Humfrey,  seeing  no 
relenting  in  her  countenance,  "  I  did  but  mean  to  hinder 
Cis  from  being  maltreated  and  a  go-between  in  this 
traffic  with  an  old  witch,  not  to  bring  Tony  into  trouble." 

"  His  face  is  a  tell-tale,  Humfrey,"  said  Susan.  "  I 
meant  ere  now  to  have  put  a  piece  of  beef  on  it. 
Come  in,  Antony,  and  let  me  wash  it." 

"Thank  you,  madam,  I  need  nothing  here,"  said 
Antony,  stalking  proudly  off;  while  Humfrey,  exclaim- 
ing "  Don't  be  an  ass,  Tony ! — Mother,  no  one  would 
care  to  ask  what  we  had  given  one  another  black  eyes 
for  in  a  friendly  way,"  tried  to  hold  him  back,  and  he 


VI.]  THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE.  77 

did  linger  when  Cis  added  her  persuasions  to  him  not 
to  return  the  spectacle  he  was  at  present. 

"  If  this  lady  will  promise  not  to  betray  an  un- 
fortunate Queen,"  he  said,  as  if  permission  to  deal  with 
his  bruises  were  a  great  reward. 

"Oh!  you  foolish  boy!"  exclaimed  Mistress  Talbot, 
"  you  were  never  meant  for  a  plotter !  you  have  your- 
self betrayed  that  you  are  her  messenger." 

"  And  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it,"  said  Antony,  hold- 
ing his  head  high.  "  Madam,  madam,  if  you  have 
surprised  this  from  me,  you  are  the  more  bound  not  to 
betray  her.  Think,  lady,  if  you  were  shut  up  from 
your  children  and  friends,  would  you  not  seek  to  send 
tidings  to  them  ? " 

"  Child,  child  !  Heaven  knows  I  am  not  blaming 
the  poor  lady  within  there.  I  am  only  thinking  what 
is  right." 

"  Well,"  said  Antony,  somewhat  hopefully,  "  if  that 
be  all,  give  me  back  the  packet,  or  tear  it  up,  if  you 
will,  and  there  can  be  no  harm  done." 

"  Oh,  do  so,  sweet  mother,"  entreated  Cis,  earnestly ; 
"  he  will  never  bid  me  go  to  Tibbott  again." 

"  Ay,"  said  Humfrey,  "  then  no  tales  will  be  told." 

For  even  he,  with  all  his  trustworthiness,  or  indeed 
because  of  it,  could  not  bear  to  bring  a  comrade  to 
disgrace ;  but  the  ddemma  was  put  an  end  to  by  the 
sudden  appearance  on  the  scene  of  Captain  Eichard 
himself,  demanding  the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  and 
whether  his  sons  had  been  misbehaving  to  their  guest. 

"  Dear  sir,  sweet  father,  do  not  ask,"  entreated  Cis, 
springing  to  him,  and  taking  his  hand,  as  she  was 
privdeged  to  do ;  "  mother  has  come,  and  it  is  all  made 
up  and  over  now." 

Eichard    Talbot,    however,    had    seen    the    packet 


78  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

which  his  wife  wTas  holding,  and  her  anxious,  perplexed 
countenance,  and  the  perilous  atmosphere  of  suspicion 
around  him  made  it  incumbent  on  him  to  turn  to  her 
and  say,  "What  means  this,  mother?  Is  it  as  Cis 
would  have  me  believe,  a  mere  childish  quarrel  that  I 
may  pass  over  ?  or  what  is  this  packet  ?" 

"  Master  Babington  saith  it  is  a  dog- whistle  which 
he  was  leaving  in  charge  with  Cis  to  exchange  for 
another  with  Huckstress  Tibbott,"  she  answered. 

"  Feel, — nay,  open  it,  and  see  if  it  be  not,  sir," 
cried  Antony. 

"  I  doubt  not  that  so  it  is,"  said  the  captain ;  "  but 
you  know,  Master  Babington,  that  it  is  the  duty  of  all 
here  in  charge  to  let  no  packet  pass  the  gate  which 
has  not  been  viewed  by  my  lord's  officers." 

"Then,  sir,  I  will  take  it  back  again,"  said  Antony, 
with  a  vain  attempt  at  making  his  brow  frank  and 
clear. 

Instead  of  answering,  Captain  Talbot  took  the 
knife  from  his  girdle,  and  cut  in  twain  the  yarn  that 
bound  the  packet.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the 
whistle  being  there,  nor  was  there  anything  written  on 
the  wrapper ;  but  perhaps  the  anxiety  in  Antony's  eye, 
or  even  the  old  association  with  boatswains,  incited 
Mr.  Talbot  to  put  the  whistle  to  his  lips.  Not  a 
sound  would  come  forth.  He  looked  in,  and  saw  what 
led  him  to  blow  with  all  his  force,  when  a  white  roll 
of  paper  protruded,  and  on  another  blast  fell  out  into 
his  hand. 

He  held  it  up  as  he  found  it,  and  looked  full  at 
Antony,  who  exclaimed  in  much  agitation,  "To  keep 
out  the  dust.  Only  to  keep  out  the  dust.  It  is  all 
gibberish — from  my  old  writing-books." 

"That  will  we    see,"  said   Eichard  very  gravely. 


VI.]  THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE.  79 

"Mistress,  be  pleased  to  give  this  young  gentleman 
some  water  to  wash  his  face,  and  attend  to  his  bruises, 
keeping  him  in  the  guest-chamber  without  speech 
from  any  one  until  I  return.  Master  Babington,  I 
counsel  you  to  submit  quietly.  I  wish,  and  my  Lord 
will  wish,  to  spare  his  ward  as  much  scandal  as  pos- 
sible, and  if  this  be  what  you  say  it  is,  mere  gibberish 
from  your  exercise-books,  you  will  be  quit  for  chastise- 
ment for  a  forbidden  act,  which  has  brought  you  into 
suspicion.     If  not,  it  must  be  as  my  Lord  thinks  good." 

Antony  made  no  entreaties.  Perhaps  he  trusted 
that  what  was  unintelligible  to  himself  might  pass  for 
gibberish  with  others ;  perhaps  the  headache  caused 
by  Humfrey's  fists  was  assisting  to  produce  a  state  of 
sullen  indifference  after  his  burst  of  eager  chivalry;  at 
any  rate  he  let  Mistress  Talbot  lead  him  away  without 
resistance.  The  other  children  would  have  followed, 
but  their  father  detained  them  to  hear  the  particulars 
of  the  commission  and  the  capture.  Eichard  desired 
to  know  from  his  son  whether  he  had  any  reason  for 
suspecting  underhand  measures ;  and  when  Humfrey 
looked  down  and  hesitated,  added,  "  On  your  obedience, 
boy;  this  is  no  slight  matter." 

"  You  will  not  beat  Cis,  father  ? "  said  Humfrey. 

"Wherefore  should  I  beat  her,  save  for  doing 
errands  that  yonder  lad  should  have  known  better 
than  to  thrust  on  her  ?" 

"  Xay,  sir,  'tis  not  for  that ;  but  my  mother  said 
she  should  be  beaten  if  ever  she  spake  of  the  fortune 
yonder  Tibbott  told  her,  and  we  are  sure  that  she — 
Tibbott  I  mean — is  a  witch,  and  knows  more  than  she 
ought." 

"  What  mean'st  thou  ?  Tell  me,  children  ; "  and 
Cis,  nothing   loath,  since    she  was   secured  from   the 


80  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

beating,  related  the  augury  which  had  left  so  deep 
an  impression  on  her,  Hunifrey  bearing  witness  that  it 
was  before  they  knew  themselves  of  Cicely's  history. 

"  But  that  is  not  all,"  added  Cicely,  seeing  Mr. 
Talbot  less  impressed  than  she  expected  by  these 
supernatural  powers  of  divination.  "  She  can  change 
from  a  woman  to  a  man !" 

"In  sooth  !"  exclaimed  Eichard,  startled  enough  by 
this  information. 

"Yea,  father,"  said  Cicely,  "Faithful  Ekins,  the 
carrier's  boy,  saw  her,  in  doublet  and  hose,  and  a 
tawny  cloak,  going  along  the  road  to  Chesterfield.  He 
knew  her  by  the  halt  in  her  left  leg." 

"Ha!"  said  Eichard,  "and  how  long  hast  thou 
known  this  ?" 

"  Only  yestermorn,"  said  Cis ;  "  it  was  that  which 
made  me  so  much  afraid  to  have  any  dealings  with 
her." 

"  She  shall  trouble  thee  no  more,  my  little  wench," 
said  Eichard  in  a  tone  that  made  Humfrey  cry  out 
.joyously, 

"  0  lather  !  sweet  father !  wilt  thou  duck  her  for  a 
witch  ?      Sink  or  swim  !  that  will  be  rare  ! " 

"Hush,  hush!  foolish  lad,"  said  Eichard,  "and  thou, 
Cicely,  take  good  heed  that  not  a  word  of  all  this  gets 
abroad.  Go  to  thy  mother,  child, — nay,  I  am  not 
wroth  with  thee,  little  one.  Thou  hast  not  done  amiss, 
but  bear  in  mind  that  nought  is  ever  taken  out  of  the 
park  without  knowledge  of  me  or  of  thy  mother." 


vilJ  the  blast  of  the  whistle.  81 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE 

Eichaed  Talbot  was  of  course  convinced  that  witch- 
craft was  not  likely  to  be  the  most  serious  part  of  the 
misdeeds  of  Tibbott  the  huckstress.  Committing 
Antony  Babington  to  the  custody  of  his  wife,  he  sped 
on  his  way  back  to  the  Manor-house,  where  Lord 
Shrewsbury  was  at  present  residing,  the  Countess 
being  gone  to  view  her  buildings  at  Chatsworth,  tak- 
ing her  daughter  Bessie  with  her.  He  sent  in  a 
message  desiring  to  speak  to  my  lord  in  his  privy 
chamber. 

Francis  Talbot  came  to  him.  "  Is  it  matter  of  great 
moment,  Dick?"  he  said,  "for  my  father  is  so  fretted 
and  chafed,  I  would  fain  not  vex  him  further  to-night. 
— What !  know  you  not  ?  Here  are  tidings  that  my 
lady  hath  married  Bess — yes,  Bess  Cavendish,  in 
secret  to  my  young  Lord  Lennox,  the  brother  of  this 
Queen's  unlucky  husband  !  How  he  is  to  clear  himself 
before  her  Grace  of  being  concerned  in  it,  I  know  not, 
for  though  Heaven  wots  that  he  is  as  innocent  as  the 
child  unborn,  she  will  suspect  him  !" 

"  I  knew  she  flew  high  for  Mistress  Bess,"  returned 
Bichard. 

"  High  !  nothing  would  serve  her  save  royal  blood  ! 

VOL.  L  G 


82  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

My  poor  father  says  as  sure  as  the  lions  and  fleur- 
de-lis  have  come  into  a  family,  the  headsman's  axe  has 
come  after  them." 

"  However  it  is  not  our  family." 

"  So  I  tell  him,  but  it  gives  him  small  comfort,"  said 
Frank,  "  looking  as  he  doth  on  the  Cavendish  brood  as 
his  own,  and  knowing  that  there  will  be  a  mighty  coil 
at  once  with  my  lady  and  these  two  queens.  He  is 
sore  vexed  to-night,  and  saith  that  never  was  Earl,  not 
to  say  man,  so  baited  by  woman  as  he,  and  he  bade 
me  see  whether  yours  be  a  matter  of  such  moment 
that  it  may  not  wait  till  morning  or  be  despatched  by 
me." 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say,  Master  Francis.  What 
think  you  of  this  for  a  toy?"  as  he  produced  the  parcel 
with  the  whistle  and  its  contents.  "I  went  home 
betimes  to-day,  as  you  know,  and  found  my  boy 
Humfrey  had  just  made  young  Master  Babington 
taste  of  his  fists  for  trying  to  make  our  little  wench 
pass  this  packet  to  yonder  huckster -woman  who  was 
succoured  some  months  back  by  the  Queen  of  Scots." 

Francis  Talbot  silently  took  the  whistle  and  un- 
rolled the  long  narrow  strip  of  paper.  "This  is  the 
cipher,"  said  he,  "the  cipher  used  in  corresponding 
with  her  French  kin ;  Phillipps  the  decipherer  showed 
me  the  trick  of  it  when  he  was  at  Tutbury  in  the  time 
of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  business.  Soh !  your  son 
hath  done  good  service,  Eichard.  That  lad  hath  been 
tampered  with  then,  I  thought  he  was  over  thick  with 
the  lady  in  the  lodge.  Where  is  he,  the  young 
traitor?" 

"  At  Bridgefield,  under  my  wife's  ward,  having  his 
bruises  attended  to.  I  would  not  bring  him  up  here  till 
I  knew  what  my  Lord  would  have  done  with  him.     He 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  83 

is  but  a  child,  and  no  doubt  was  wrought  with  by 
sweet  looks,  and  I  trust  my  Lord  will  not  be  hard 
with  him." 

"  If  my  father  had  hearkened  to  me,  he  should  never 
have  been  here,"  said  Francis.  "  His  father  was  an 
honest  man,  but  his  mother  was,  I  find,  a  secret 
recusant,  and  when  she  died,  young  Antony  was 
quite  old  enough  to  have  sucked  in  the  poison.  You 
did  well  to  keep  him,  Eichard ;  he  ought  not  to  return 
hither  again,  either  in  ward  or  at  liberty." 

"  If  he  were  mine,  I  would  send  him  to  school,"  said 
Eichard,  "  where  the  masters  and  the  lads  would  soon 
drive  out  of  him  all  dreams  about  captive  princesses 
and  seminary  priests  to  boot.  For,  Cousin  Francis,  I 
would  have  you  to  know  that  my  children  say  there  is 
a  rumour  that  this  woman  Tibbott  the  huckstress  hath 
been  seen  in  a  doublet  and  hose  near  Chesterfield." 

fC  The  villain  !    When  is  she  looked  for  here  again  ? " 

"  Anon,  I  should  suppose,  judging  by  the  boy  leav- 
ing this  charge  with  Cis  in  case  she  should  come  while 
he  is  gone  to  Chatsworth." 

"  We  will  take  order  as  to  that,"  said  Francis,  com- 
pressing his  lips  ;  "  I  know  you  will  take  heed,  cousin, 
that  she,  or  he,  gets  no  breath  of  warning.  I  should 
not  wonder  if  it  were  Parsons  himself ! "  and  he  un- 
folded the  scroll  with  the  air  of  a  man  seeking  to 
confirm  his  triumph. 

"  Can  you  make  anything  of  it  ?"  asked  Eichard, 
struck  by  its  resemblance  to  another  scroll  laid  up 
among  his  wife's  treasures. 

"  I  cannot  tell,  they  are  not  matters  to  be  read  in 
an  hour,"  said  Francis  Talbot,  "  moreover,  there  is  one 
in  use  for  the  English  traitors,  her  friends,  and  another 
for  the  French.     This  looks  like  the  French  sort.     Let 


84  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

me  see,  they  are  read  by  taking  the  third  letter  in  each 
second  word."  Francis  Talbot,  somewhat  proud  of  his 
proficiency,  and  perfectly  certain  of  the  trustworthiness 
of  his  cousin  Eichard,  went  on  puzzling  out  the  ciphered 
letters,  making  Eichard  set  each  letter  down  as  he 
picked  it  out,  and  trying  whether  they  would  make 
sense  in  French  or  English.  Both  understood  French, 
having  learned  it  in  their  page  days,  and  kept  it  up  by 
intercourse  with  the  French  suite.  Francis,  however, 
had  to  try  two  or  three  methods,  which,  being  a  young 
man,  perhaps  he  was  pleased  to  display,  and  at  last 
he  hit  upon  the  right,  which  interpreted  the  apparent 
gibberish  of  the  scroll — excepting  that  the  names  of 
persons  were  concealed  under  soubriquets  which 
Francis  Talbot  could  not  always  understand — but 
the  following  sentence  by  and  by  became  clear  : — 
"  Quand  le  matelot  vient  des  marais,  un  feu  pent 
eclater  dans  la  meute  et  dans  la  meUe " — K  When  the 
sailor  lands  from  the  fens,  a  fire  might  easily  break 
out  in  the  dog -kennel,  and  in  the  confusion '* 
(name  could  not  be  read)  "  could  carry  off  the  tercel 
gentle." 

"La  meute"  said  Francis,  "that  is  their  term  for 
the  home  of  us  Talbots,  and  the  sailor  in  the  fens  is 
this  Don  John  of  Austria,  who  means,  after  conquering 
the  Dutchmen,  to  come  and  set  free  this  tercel  gentle, 
as  she  calls  herself,  and  play  the  inquisitor  upon  us. 
On  my  honour,  Dick,  your  boy  has  played  the  man  in 
making  this  discovery.  Keep  the  young  traitor  fast, 
and  take  down  a  couple  of  yeomen  to  lay  hands  on 
this  same  Tibbott  as  she  calls  herself." 

"If  I  remember  right,"  said  Eichard,  "she  was 
said  to  be  the  sister  or  aunt  to  one  of  the  grooms  or 
prickers." 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  85 

"  So  it  was,  Guy  Norman,  methinks.  Belike  he 
was  the  very  fellow  to  set  fire  to  our  kennel.  Yea, 
we  must  secure  him.  I'll  see  to  that,  and  you  shall 
lay  this  scroll  before  my  father  meantime,  Dick.  Why, 
to  fall  on  such  a  trail  will  restore  his  spirits,  and  win 
back  her  Grace  to  believe  in  his  honesty,  if  my  lady's 
tricks  should  have  made  her  doubtful." 

Off  went  Francis  with  great  alacrity,  and  ere  long 
the  Earl  was  present  with  Eichard.  The  long  light 
beard  was  now  tinged  with  gray,  and  there  were  deep 
lines  round  the  mouth  and  temples,  betraying  how  the 
long  anxiety  was  telling  on  him,  and  rendering  him 
suspicious  and  querulous.  "  Soh  !  Eichard  Talbot," 
was  his  salutation,  "  what's  the  coil  now  ?  Can  a  man 
never  be  left  in  peace  in  his  own  house,  between 
queens  and  ladies,  plots  and  follies,  but  his  own  kins- 
folk and  retainers  must  come  to  him  on  every  petty 
broil  among  the  lads  !  I  should  have  thought  your 
boy  and  young  Babington  might  fight  out  their  quarrels 
alone  without  vexing  a  man  that  is  near  driven  dis- 
tracted as  it  is." 

"  I  grieve  to  vex  your  lordship,"  said  Eichard, 
standing  bareheaded,  "  but  Master  Francis  thought  this 
scroll  worthy  of  your  attention.  This  is  the  manner 
in  which  he  deciphered  it." 

"  Scrolls,  I  am  sick  of  scrolls,"  said  the  Earl  testily. 
"  What !  is  it  some  order  for  saying  mass, — or  to  get 
some  new  Popish  image  or  a  skein  of  silk  ?  I  wear 
my  eyes  out  reading  such  as  that,  and  racking  my 
brains  for  some  hidden  meaning !" 

And  failing  on  Francis's  first  attempt  at  copying, 
he  was  scornful  of  the  whole,  and  had  nearly  thrown 
the  matter  aside,  but  when  he  lit  at  last  on  the  sen- 
tence about  burning  the   meute  and  carrying  off  the 


86  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

tercel  gentle,  his  brow  grew  dark  indeed,  and  his 
inquiries  came  thickly  one  upon  the  other,  both  as  to 
Antony  Babington  and  the  huckstering  woman. 

In  the  midst,  Frank  Talbot  returned  with  the 
tidings  that  the  pricker  Guy  Norman  was  nowhere 
to  be  found.  He  had  last  been  seen  by  his  comrades 
about  the  time  that  Captain  Eichard  had  returned  to 
the  Manor-house.  Probably  he  had  taken  alarm  on 
seeing  him  come  back  at  that  unusual  hour,  and  had 
gone  to  carry  the  warning  to  his  supposed  aunt.  This 
last  intelligence  made  the  Earl  decide  on  going  down  at 
once  to  Bridgefield  to  examine  young  Babington  before 
there  was  time  to  miss  his  presence  at  the  lodge,  or 
to  hold  any  communication  with  him.  Frank  caused 
horses  to  be  brought  round,  and  the  Earl  rode  down  with 
Eichard  by  a  shaded  alley  in  an  ordinary  cloak  and  hat. 

My  Lord's  appearance  at  Bridgefield  was  a  rarer 
and  more  awful  event  than  was  my  Lady's,  and  if 
Mistress  Susan  had  been  warned  beforehand,  there  is 
no  saying  how  at  the  head  of  her  men  and  maids  she 
would  have  scrubbed  and  polished  the  floors,  and 
brushed  the  hangings  and  cushions.  What  then  were 
her  feelings  when  the  rider,  who  dismounted  from  his 
little  hackney  as  unpretendingly  as  did  her  husband 
in  the  twilight  court,  proved  to  have  my  Lord's  long 
beard  and  narrow  face  ! 

Curtseying  her  lowest,  and  with  a  feeling  of  con- 
sternation and  pity  as  she  thought  of  the  orphan  boy, 
she  accepted  his  greeting  with  duteous  welcome  as  he 
said,  "  Kinswoman,  I  am  come  to  cumber  you,  whilst 
I  inquire  into  this  matter.  I  give  your  son  thanks 
for  the  honesty  and  faithfulness  he  hath  shown  in  the 
matter,  as  befitted  his  father's  son.  I  should  wish 
myself  to  examine  the  springald." 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  87 

Humfrey  was  accordingly  called,  and,  privately 
admonished  by  his  father  that  he  must  not  allow  any 
scruples  about  bringing  his  playmate  into  trouble  to 
lead  him  to  withhold  his  evidence,  or  shrink  from 
telling  the  whole  truth  as  he  knew  it,  Humfrey 
accordingly  stood  before  the  Earl  and  made  his  replies 
a  little  sullenly  but  quite  straightforwardly.  He  had 
prevented  the  whistle  from  being  given  to  his  sister 
for  the  huckstress  because  the  woman  was  a  witch, 
who  frightened  her,  and  moreover  he  knew  it  was 
against  rules.  Did  he  suspect  that  the  whistle  came 
from  the  Queen  of  Scots  ? 

He  looked  startled,  and  asked  if  it  were  so  indeed, 
and  when  again  commanded  to  say  why  he  had 
thought  it  possible,  he  replied  that  he  knew  Antony 
thought  the  Queen  of  Scots  a  fair  and  gracious  lady. 

Did  he  believe  that  Antony  ever  had  communica- 
tion with  her  or  her  people  unheard  by  others  ? 

"  Assuredly  !  Wherefore  not,  when  he  carried  my 
Lady  Countess's  messages  ?" 

Lord  Shrewsbury  bent  his  brow,  but  did  not  further 
pursue  this  branch  of  the  subject,  but  demanded  of 
Humfrey  a  description  of  Tibbott,  huckster  or  witch, 
man  or  woman. 

"  She  wears  a  big  black  hood  and  muffler,"  said 
Humfrey,  "  and  hath  a  long  hooked  stick." 

"  I  asked  thee  not  of  her  muffler,  boy,  but  of  her 
person." 

"She  hath  pouncet  boxes  and  hawks'  bells,  and 
dog-whistles  in  her  basket,"  proceeded  Humfrey,  but 
as  the  Earl  waxed  impatient,  and  demanded  whether 
no  one  could  give  him  a  clearer  account,  Eichard  bade 
Humfrey  call  his  mother. 

She,  however,  could  say  nothing  as  to  the  woman's 


88  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

appearance.  She  had  gone  to  Norman's  cottage  to  offer 
her  services  after  the  supposed  accident,  but  had  been 
told  that  the  potticary  of  the  Queen  of  Scots  had 
undertaken  her  cure,  and  had  only  seen  her  huddled 
up  in  a  heap  of  rags,  asleep.  Since  her  recovery  the 
woman  had  been  several  times  at  Bridgefield,  but  it 
had  struck  the  mistress  of  the  house  that  there  was 
a  certain  avoidance  of  direct  communication  with  her, 
and  a  preference  for  the  servants  and  children.  This 
Susan  had  ascribed  to  fear  that  she  should  be  warned 
off  for  her  fortune-telling  propensities,  or  the  children's 
little  bargains  interfered  with.  All  she  could  answer 
for  was  that  she  had  once  seen  a  huge  pair  of  grizzled 
eyebrows,  with  light  eyes  under  them,  and  that  the 
woman,  if  woman  she  were,  was  tall,  and  bent  a  good 
deal  upon  a  hooked  stick,  which  supported  her  limping 
steps.  Cicely  could  say  little  more,  except  that  the 
witch  had  a  deep  awesome  voice,  like  a  man,  and  a 
long  nose  terrible  to  look  at.  Indeed,  there  seemed  to 
have  been  a  sort  of  awful  fascination  about  her  to  all 
the  children,  who  feared  her  yet  ran  after  her. 

Antony  was  then  sent  for.  It  was  not  easy  to 
judge  of  the  expression  of  his  disfigured  countenance, 
but  when  thus  brought  to  bay  he  threw  off  all  tokens 
of  compunction,  and  stood  boldly  before  the  Earl. 

"  So,  Master  Babington,  I  find  you  have  been  be- 
traying the  trust  I  placed  in  you " 

"  What  trust,  my  Lord  ?"  said  Antony,  his  bright 
blue  eyes  looking  back  into  those  of  the  nobleman. 

"  The  cockerel  crows  loud,"  said  the  Earl.  "  What 
trust,  quotha !  Is  there  no  trust  implied  in  the  com- 
ing and  going  of  one  of  my  household,  when  such  a 
charge  is  committed  to  me  and  mine  ?" 

"  No  one  ever  gave  me  any  charge,"  said  Antony. 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  89 

"Dost  thou  bandy  words,  thou  fro  ward  imp  ?"  said 
the  Earl.  "  Thou  hast  not  the  conscience  to  deny  that 
there  was  no  honesty  in  smuggling  forth  a  letter  thus 
hidden.  Deny  it  not.  The  treasonable  cipher  hath 
been  read !" 

"  I  knew  nought  of  what  was  in  it,"  said  the  boy. 

"  I  believe  thee  there,  but  thou  didst  know  that  it 
was  foully  disloyal  to  me  and  to  her  Majesty  to  bear 
forth  secret  letters  to  disguised  traitors.  I  am  willing 
to  believe  that  the  smooth  tongue  which  hath  deluded 
many  a  better  man  than  thou  hath  led  thee  astray, 
and  I  am  willing  to  deal  as  lightly  with  thee  as  may 
be,  so  thou  wilt  tell  me  openly  all  thou  knowest  of 
this  infamous  plot." 

"  I  know  of  no  plot,  sir." 

"  They  would  scarce  commit  the  knowledge  to  the 
"like  of  him,"  said  Eichard  Talbot. 

"  May  be  not,"  said  Lord  Shrewsbury,  looking  at 
him  with  a  glance  that  Antony  thought  contemptuous, 
and  which  prompted  him  to  exclaim,  "  And  if  I  did 
know  of  one,  you  may  be  assured  I  would  never  betray 
it  were  I  torn  with  wild  horses." 

"  Betray,  sayest  thou  !"  returned  the  Earl.  "  Thou 
hast  betrayed  my  confidence,  Antony,  and  hast  gone  as 
far  as  in  thee  lies  to  betray  thy  Queen." 

"My  Queen  is  Mary,  the  lawful  Queen  of  us  all," 
replied  Antony,  boldly. 

"  Ho  !  Sayest  thou  so  ?  It  is  then  as  thou  didst 
trow,  cousin,  the  foolish  lad  hath  been  tampered  with 
by  \he  honeyed  tongue.  I  need  not  ask  thee  from  whom 
thou  hadst  this  letter,  boy.  We  have  read  it  and 
know  the  foul  treason  therein.  Thou  wilt  never  return 
to  the  castle  again,  but  for  thy  father's  sake  thou  shalt 
be  dealt  with  less  sternly,  if  thou  wilt  tell  who  this 


90  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

woman  is,  and  how  many  of  these  toys  thou  hast  given 
to  her,  if  thou  knowest  who  she  is." 

But  Antony  closed  his  lips  resolutely.  In  fact, 
Eichard  suspected  him  of  being  somewhat  nattered  by 
being  the  cause  of  such  a  commotion,  and  actually 
accused  of  so  grand  and  manly  a  crime  as  high  treason. 
The  Earl  could  extract  no  word,  and  finally  sentenced 
him  to  remain  at  Bridgefield,  shut  up  in  his  own 
chamber  till  he  could  be  dealt  with.  The  lad  walked 
away  in  a  dignified  manner,  and  the  Earl,  holding  up 
his  hands,  half  amused,  half  vexed,  said,  "  So  the  spell 
is  on  that  poor  lad  likewise.  What  shall  I  do  with 
him  ?     An  orphan  boy  too,  and  mine  old  friend's  son." 

"With  your  favour,  my  Lord,"  said  Bichard,  "I 
should  say,  send  him  to  a  grammar  school,  where 
among  lads  of  his  own  age,  the  dreams  about  captive 
princesses  might  be  driven  from  him  by  hard  blows 
and  merry  games." 

"That  may  scarce  serve,"  said  the  Earl  rather  severely, 
for  public  schools  were  then  held  beneath  the  dignity  of 
both  the  nobility  and  higher  gentry.  "  I  may,  however, 
send  him  to  study  at  Cambridge  under  some  trusty 
pedagogue.  Back  at  the  castle  I  cannot  have  him,  so 
must  I  cumber  you  with  him,  my  good  kinswoman, 
until  his  face  have  recovered  your  son's  lusty  chastise- 
ment. Also  it  may  be  well  to  keep  him  here  till  we 
can  lay  hands  on  this  same  huckster -woman,  since 
there  may  be  need  to  confront  him  with  her.  It  were 
best  if  you  did  scour  the  country  toward  Chesterfield 
for  her,  while  Frank  went  to  York." 

Having  thus  issued  his  orders,  the  Earl  took  a 
gracious  leave  of  the  lady,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
rode  back  to  Sheffield,  dispensing  with  the  attendance 
of  his  kinsman,  who  had  indeed  to  prepare  for  an  early 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  91 

start  the  next  morning,  when  he  meant  to  take 
Hiimfrey  with  him,  as  not  unlikely  to  recognise  the 
woman,  though  he  could  not  describe  her. 

"  The  boy  merits  well  to  go  forth  with  me,"  said 
he.  "  He  hath  done  yeoman's  service,  and  proved 
himself  staunch  and  faithful." 

"Was  there  matter  in  that  scroll  ?"  asked  Susan. 

"  Only  such  slight  matter  as  burning  down  the 
Talbots'  kennel,  while  Don  John  of  Austria  is  landing 
on  the  coast." 

"  God  forgive  them,  and  defend  us  !"  sighed  Susan, 
turning  pale.     "  Was  that  in  the  cipher  ? " 

"  Ay,  in  sooth,  but  fear  not,  good  wife.  Much  is 
purposed  that  ne'er  comes  to  pass.  I  doubt  me  if  the 
ship  be  built  that  is  to  carry  the  Don  hither." 

"  I  trust  that  Antony  knew  not  of  the  wickedness  ?" 

"  Not  he.  His  is  only  a  dream  out  of  the  romances 
the  lads  love  so  well,  of  beauteous  princesses  to  be 
freed,  and  the  like." 

"But  the  woman!" 

"  Yea,  that  lies  deeper.  What  clidst  thou  say  of 
her  ?  Wherefore  do  the  children  call  her  a  witch  ?  Is 
it  only  that  she  is  grim  and  ugly?" 

"  I  trow  there  is  more  cause  than  that,"  said  Susan. 
"  It  may  be  that  I  should  have  taken  more  heed  to 
their  babble  at  first ;  but  I  have  questioned  Cis  while 
you  were  at  the  lodge,  and  I  find  that  even  before 
Mate  Goatley  spake  here,  this  Tibbott  had  told  the 
child  of  her  being  of  lofty  race  in  the  north,  alien  to 
the  Talbots'  kennel,  holding  out  to  her  presages  of 
some  princely  destiny." 

"That  bodeth  ill!"  said  Richard,  thoughtfully. 
"  Wife,  my  soul  misgives  me  that  the  hand  of 
Cuthbert  Langston  is  in  this." 


92  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

Susan  started.  The  idea  chimed  in  with  Tibbott's 
avoidance  of  her  scrutiny,  and  also  with  a  certain 
vague  sense  she  had  had  of  having  seen  those  eyes 
before.  So  light-complexioned  a  man  would  be  easily 
disguised,  and  the  halt  was  accounted  for  by  a  report 
that  he  had  had  a  bad  fall  when  riding  to  join  in  the 
Eising  in  the  North.  Nor  could  there  now  be  any 
doubt  that  he  was  an  ardent  partisan  of  the  imprisoned 
Mary,  while  Eichard  had  always  known  his  inclination 
to  intrigue.  She  could  only  agree  with  her  husband's 
opinion,  and  ask  what  he  would  do. 

"My  duty  must  be  done,  kin  or  no  kin,"  said 
Eichard,  "  that  is  if  I  find  him ;  but  I  look  not  to  do 
that,  since  Norman  is  no  doubt  off  to  warn  him." 

"  I  marvel  whether  he  hath  really  learnt  who  our 
Cis  can  be?" 

"  Belike  not !  The  hint  would  only  have  been 
thrown  out  to  gain  power  over  her." 

"  Said  you  that  you  read  the  cipher  ?" 

"  Master  Frank  did  so." 

"Would  it  serve  you  to  read  our  scroll?" 

"  Ah,  woman  !  woman !  Why  can  thy  kind  never 
let  well  alone  ?  I  have  sufficient  on  my  hands  without 
reading  of  scrolls !" 

Humfrey's  delight  was  extreme  when  he  found  that 
he  was  to  ride  forth  with  his  father,  and  half-a-dozen 
of  the  earl's  yeomen,  in  search  of  the  supposed  witch. 
They  traced  her  as  far  as  Chesterfield ;  but  having  met 
the  carrier's  waggon  on  the  way,  they  carefully 
examined  Faithful  Ekins  on  his  report,  but  all  the 
youth  was  clear  about  was  the  halt  and  the  orange 
tawny  cloak,  and  after  entering  Chesterfield,  no  one 
knew  anything  of  these  tokens.  There  was  a  large 
village  belonging  to  a  family  of  recusants,  not  far  off, 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  93 

where  the  pursuers  generally  did  lose  sight  of  suspicious 
persons;  and,  perhaps,  Eichard  was  relieved,  though 
his  son  was  greatly  chagrined. 

The  good  captain  had  a  sufficient  regard  for  his 
kinsman  to  be  unwilling  to  have  to  unmask  him  as  a 
traitor,  and  to  be  glad  that  he  should  have  effected  an 
escape,  so  that,  at  least,  it  should  be  others  who  should 
detect  him — if  Langston  indeed  it  were. 

His  next  charge  was  to  escort  young  Babington  to 
Cambridge,  and  deliver  him  up  to  a  tutor  of  his  lord- 
ship's selection,  who  might  draw  the  Popish  fancies  out 
of  him. 

Meantime,  Antony  had  been  kept  close  to  the 
house  and  garden,  and  not  allowed  any  intercourse 
with  any  of  the  young  people,  save  Humfrey,  except 
when  the  master  or  mistress  of  the  house  was  present ; 
but  he  did  not  want  for  occupation,  for  Master  Snig- 
gius  came  down,  and  gave  him  a  long  chapter  of  the 
Book  of  Proverbs — chiefly  upon  loyalty,  in  the  Septua- 
gint,  to  learn  by  heart,  and  translate  into  Latin  and 
English  as  his  Saturday's  and  Sunday's  occupation, 
under  pain  of  a  flogging,  which  was  no  light  thing  from 
the  hands  of  that  redoubted  dominie. 

Young  Babington  was  half  -  nattered  and  half- 
frightened  at  the  commotion  he  had  excited.  "Am  I 
going  to  the  Tower?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  awe- 
stricken,  yet  not  without  a  certain  ring  of  self-import- 
ance, when  he  saw  his  mails  brought  down,  and  was 
bidden  to  put  on  his  boots  and  his  travelling  dress. 

And  Captain  Talbot  had  a  cruel  satisfaction  in 
replying,  "  JSTo,  Master  Babington ;  the  Tower  is  not 
for  refractory  boys.  You  are  going  to  your  school- 
master." 

But  where  the  school  was  to  be  Pdchard  kept  an 


94  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

absolute  secret  by  special  desire,  in  order  that  no  com- 
munication should  be  kept  up  through  any  of  the 
household.  He  was  to  avoid  Chatsworth,  and  to  return 
as  soon  as  possible  to  endeavour  to  trace  the  supposed 
huckster-woman  at  Chesterfield. 

When  once  away  from  home,  he  ceased  to  treat 
young  Babington  as  a  criminal,  but  rode  in  a  friendly 
manner  with  him  through  lanes  and  over  moors,  till 
the  young  fellow  began  to  thaw  towards  him,  and  even 
went  so  far  as  to  volunteer  one  day  that  he  would  not 
have  brought  Mistress  Cicely  into  the  matter  if  there 
had  been  any  other  sure  way  of  getting  the  letter 
delivered  in  his  absence. 

"Ah,  boy!"  returned  Eichard,  "when  once  we 
swerve  from  the  open  and  direct  paths,  there  is  no  saying 
into  what  tangles  we  may  bring  ourselves  and  others." 

Antony  winced  a  little,  and  said,  "  Whoever  says  I 
lied,  lies  in  his  throat." 

"No  one  hath  said  thou  wert  false  in  word,  but 
how  as  to  thy  deed  ? " 

"  Sir,"  said  Antony,  "  surely  when  a  high  emprise 
and  great  right  is  to  be  done,  there  is  no  need  to  halt 
over  such  petty  quibbles." 

"  Master  Babington,  no  great  right  was  ever  done 
through  a  little  wrong.  Depend  on  it,  if  you  cannot 
aid  without  a  breach  of  trust,  it  is  the  sure  sign  that 
it  is  not  the  will  of  God  that  you  should  be  the  one  to 
do  it." 

Captain  Talbot  mused  whether  he  should  convince 
or  only  weary  the  lad  by  an  argument  he  had  once 
heard  in  a  sermon,  that  the  force  of  Satan's  temptation 
to  our  blessed  Lord,  when  showing  Him  all  the  king- 
doms of  the  world,  must  have  been  the  absolute  and 
immediate  vanishing  of  all  kinds  of  evil,  by  a  voluntary 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  95 

abdication  on  the  part  of  the  Prince  of  this  world,  in- 
stead not  only  of  the  coming  anguish  of  the  strife,  but 
of  the  long,  long,  often  losing,  battle  which  has  been 
waging  ever  since.  Yet  for  this  great  achievement  He 
would  not  commit  the  moment's  sin.  He  was  just  about 
to  begin  when  Antony  broke  in,  "  Then,  sir,  you  do 
deem  it  a  great  wrong  ?" 

"  That  I  leave  to  wiser  heads  than  mine,"  returned 
the  sailor.  "  My  duty  is  to  obey  my  Lord,  his  duty  is 
to  obey  her  Grace.  That  is  all  a  plain  man  needs  to 
see." 

"  But  an  if  the  true  Queen  be  thus  mewed  up,  sir  ?" 
asked  Antony.  Richard  was  too  wise  a  man  to  threaten 
the  suggestion  down  as  rank  treason,  well  knowing  that 
thus  he  should  never  root  it  out. 

"  Look  you  here,  Antony,"  he  said ;  "  who  ought 
to  reign  is  a  question  of  birth,  such  as  neither  of  us 
can  understand  nor  judge.  But  we  know  thus  much, 
that  her  Grace,  Queen  Elizabeth,  hath  been  crowned  and 
anointed  and  received  oaths  of  fealty  as  her  due,  and 
that  is  quite  enough  for  any  honest  man." 

"Even  when  she  keeps  in  durance  the  Queen,  who 
came  as  her  guest  in  dire  distress  ?" 

"  Nay,  Master  Antony,  you  are  not  old  enough  to 
remember  that  the  durance  began  not  until  the  Queen 
of  Scots  tried  to  form  a  party  for  herself  among  the 
English  liegemen.  And  didst  thou  know,  thou  simple 
lad,  what  the  letter  bore,  which  thou  didst  carry,  and 
what  it  would  bring  on  this  peaceful  land  ?" 

Antony  looked  a  little  startled  when  he  heard  of 
the  burning  of  the  kennel,  but  he  averred  that  Don 
John  was  a  gallant  prince. 

"  I  have  seen  more  than  one  gallant  Spaniard  under 
whose  power  I '  should  grieve  to  see  any  friend  of  mine." 


96  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

All  the  rest  of  the  way  Eichard  Talbot  entertained 
the  young  gentleman  with  stories  of  his  own  voyages 
and  adventures,  into  which  he  managed  to  bring  traits 
of  Spanish  cruelty  and  barbarity  as  shown  in  the  Low 
Countries,  such  as,  without  actually  drawing  the 
moral  every  time,  might  show  what  was  to  be  ex- 
pected if  Mary  of  Scotland  and  Don  John  of  Austria 
were  to  reign  over  England,  armed  with  the  Inquisition. 
Antony  asked  a  good  many  questions,  and  when  he 
found  that  the  captain  had  actually  been  an  eye-witness 
of  the  state  of  a  country  harried  by  the  Spaniards,  he 
seemed  a  good  deal  struck. 

"  I  think  if  I  had  the  training  of  him  I  could  make 
a  loyal  Englishman  of  him  yet,"  said  Eichard  Talbot 
to  his  wife  on  his  return.  "  But  I  fear  me  there  is 
%  that  in  his  heart  and  his  conscience  which  will  only 
grow,  while  yonder  sour-faced  doctor,  with  whom  I  had 
to  leave  him  at  Cambridge,  preaches  to  him  of  the 
perdition  of  Pope  and  Papists." 

"  If  his  mother  were  indeed  a  concealed  Papist," 
said  Susan,  "  such  sermons  will  only  revolt  the  poor 
child." 

"  Yea,  truly.  If  my  Lord  wanted  to  make  a  plotter 
and  a  Papist  of  the  boy  he  could  scarce  find  a  better 
means.  I  myself  never  could  away  with  yonder  lady's 
blandishments.  But  when  he  thinks  of  her  in  con- 
trast to  yonder  divine,  it  would  take  a  stronger  head 
than  his  not  to  be  led  away.  The  best  chance  for 
him  is  that  the  stir  of  the  world  about  him  may  put 
captive  princesses  out^of  his  head." 


VIII.]  THE  KEY  OF  THE  CIPHEE.  07 


CHAPTEE    VIII. 

THE    KEY    OF   THE   CIPHFJJ. 

"Where  is  the  man  who  does  not  persuade  himself  that 
when  he  gratifies  his  own  curiosity  he  does  so  for  the 
sake  of  his  womankind  ?  So  Eichard  Talbot,  having 
made  his  protest,  waited  two  days,  but  when  next  he 
had  any  leisure  moments  before  him,  on  a  Sunday 
evening,  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  Sue,  what  hast  thou  done 
with  that  scroll  of  Cissy's  ?  I  trow  thou  wilt  not  rest 
till  thou  art  convinced  it  is  but  some  lying  horoscope 
-or  Popish  charm." 

Susan  had  in  truth  been  resting  in  perfect  quiet- 
ness, being  extremely  busy  over  her  spinning,  so  as  to 
be  ready  for  the  weaver  who  came  round  periodically 
to  direct  the  more  artistic  portions  of  domestic  work 
However,  she  joyfully  produced  the  scroll  from  the 
depths  of  the  casket  where  she  kept  her  chief  treasures, 
and  her  spindle  often  paused  in  its  dance  as  she  watched 
her  husband  over  it,  with  his  elbows  on  the  table  and 
his  hands  in  his  hair,  from  whence  he  only  removed 
them  now  and  then  to  set  down  a  letter  or  two  by  way 
of  experiment.  She  had  to  be  patient,  for  she  heard 
nothing  that  night  but  that  he  believed  it  was  French, 
that  the  father  of  deceits  himself  might  be  puzzled 
with  the  thing,  and  that  she  might  as  well  ask  him 
vol.  t.  H 


98  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

for  his  head  at  once  as  propose  his  consulting  Master 
Francis. 

The  next  night  he  unfolded  it  with  many  a  groan, 
and  would  say  nothing  at  all ;  but  he  sat  up  late  and 
waked  in  early  dawn  to  pore  over  it  again,  and  on  the 
third  day  of  study  he  uttered  a  loud  exclamation  of 
dismay,  but  he  ordered  Susan  off  to  bed  in  the  midst, 
and  did  not  utter  anything  but  a  perplexed  groan  or 
two  when  he  followed  her  much  later. 

It  was  not  till  the  next  night  that  she  heard  any- 
thing, and  then,  in  the  darkness,  he  began,  "  Susan, 
thou  art  a  good  wife  and  a  discreet  woman." 

Perhaps  her  heart  leapt  as  she  thought  to  herself, 
"  At  last  it  is  coming,  I  knew  it  would  !"  but  she  only 
made  some  innocent  note  of  attention. 

"  Thou  hast  asked  no  questions,  nor  tried  to  pry 
into  this  unhappy  mystery,"  he  went  on. 

"  I  knew  you  would  tell  me  what  was  fit  for  me  to 
hear,"  she  replied. 

"  Fit !  It  is  fit  for  no  one  to  hear  !  Yet  I  needs 
must  take  counsel  with  thee,  and  thou  hast  shown  thou 
canst  keep  a  close  mouth  so  far." 

"  Concerns  it  our  Cissy,  husband  ?" 

"  Ay  does  it.  Our  Cissy,  indeed !  What  wouldst 
say,  Sue,  to  hear  she  was  daughter  to  the  lady 
yonder." 

"  To  the  Queen  of  Scots  ?" 

"  Hush !  hush !"  fairly  grasping  her  to  hinder  the 
words  from  being  uttered  above  her  breath. 

"And  her  father?" 

"  That  villain,  Bothwell,  of  course.  Poor  lassie, 
she  is  ill  fathered  ! " 

"  You  may  say  so.     Is  it  in  the  scroll  ? " 

"  Ay !  so  far  as  I  can  unravel  it ;  but  besides  the 


VIII.]  THE  KEY  OF  THE  CIPHER.  99 

cipher  no  doubt  much  was  left  for  the  poor  woman  to 
tell  that  was  lost  in  the  wreck." 

And  he  went  on  to  explain  that  the  scroll  was  a 
letter  to  the  Abbess  of  Soissons,  who  was  aunt  to 
Queen  Mary,  as  was  well  known,  since  an  open  corre- 
spondence was  kept  up  through  the  French  ambassador. 
This  letter  said  that  "  our  trusty  Alison  Hepburn  " 
would  tell  how  in  secrecy  and  distress  Queen  Mary 
had  given  birth  to  this  poor  child  in  Lochleven,  and 
how  she  had  been  conveyed  across  the  lake  while  only 
a  few  hours  old,  after  being  hastily  baptized  by  the 
name  of  Bride,  one  of  the  patron  saints  of  Scotland.  She 
had  been  nursed  in  a  cottage  for  a  few  weeks  till  the 
Queen  had  made  her  first  vain  attempt  to  escape,  after 
which  Mary  had  decided  on  sending  her  with  her  nurse 
to  Dumbarton  Castle,  whence  Lord  Fleniyng  would 
despatch  her  to  France.  The  Abbess  was  implored  to 
shelter  her,  in  complete  ignorance  of  her  birth,  until 
such  time  as  her  mother  should  resume  her  liberty  and 
her  throne.  "  Or  if,"  the  poor  Queen  said,  "  I  perish  in 
the  hands  of  my  enemies,  you  will  deal  with  her  as  my 
uncles  of  Guise  and  Lorraine  think  fit,  since,  should  her 
unhappy  little  brother  die  in  the  rude  hands  of  yonder 
traitors,  she  may  bring  the  true  faith  back  to  both 
realms."* 

"Ah  !"  cried  Susan,  with  a  sudden  gasp  of  dismay,  as 
she  bethought  her  that  the  child  was  indeed  heiress  to 
both  realms  after  the  young  King  of  Scots.  "  But  has 
there  been  no  quest  after  her?    Do  they  deem  her  lost? " 

"  No  doubt  they  do.  Either  all  hands  were  lost  in 
the  Bride  of  Dunbar,  or  if  any  of  the  crew  escaped, 
they  would  report  the  loss  of  nurse  and  child.  The 
few  who  know  that  the  little  one  was  born  believe  her 
to  have  perished.     None  will  ever  ask  for  her.      They 


100  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

deem  that  she  has  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  these 
twelve  years  or  more." 

"  And  you  would  still  keep  the  knowledge  to  our- 
selves ?"  asked  his  wife,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 

"  I  would  I  knew  it  not  myself  ! "  sighed  Eichard. 
"  Would  that  I  could  blot  it  out  of  my  mind." 

"  It  were  far  happier  for  the  poor  maid  herself  to 
remain  no  one's  child  but  ours,"  said  Susan. 

"  In  sooth  it  is  !  A  drop  of  royal  blood  is  in  these 
days  a  mere  drop  of  poison  to  them  that  have  the  ill 
luck  to  inherit  it.  As  my  lord  said  the  other  day,  it 
brings  the  headsman's  axe  after  it." 

"  And  our  boy  Humfrey  calls  himself  contracted 
to  her  ! " 

"  So  long  as  we  let  the  secret  die  with  us  that  can 
do  her  no  ill.  Happily  the  wench  favours  not  her 
mother,  save  sometimes  in  a  certain  lordly  carriage  of 
the  head  and  shoulders.  She  is  like  enough  to  some 
of  the  Scots  retinue  to  make  me  think  she  must  take 
her  face  from  her  father,  the  villain,  who,  some  one 
told  me,  was  beetle-browed  and  swarthy." 

"Lives  he  still  ?" 

"  So  'tis  thought,  but  somewhere  in  prison  in  the 
north.  There  have  been  no  tidings  of  his  death ;  but 
my  Lady  Queen,  you'll  remember,  treats  the  marriage  as 
nought,  and  has  made  offer  of  herself  for  the  misfortune 
of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  ay,  and  of  this  Don  John, 
and  I  know  not  whom  besides." 

"  She  would  not  have  done  that  had  she  known 
that  our  Cis  was  alive." 

"  Mayhap  she  would,  mayhap  not.  I  believe  my- 
self she  would  do  anything  short  of  disowning  her 
Popery  to  get  out  of  prison ;  but  as  matters  stand  I 
doubt  me  whether  Cis " 


VIII.]  THE  KEY  OF  THE  CIPHER.  101 

"  The  Lady  Bride  Hepburn,"  suggested  Susan. 

"  Pshaw,  poor  child,  I  misdoubt  me  whether  they 
would  own  her  claim  even  to  that  name." 

"  And  they  might  put  her  in  prison  if  they  did," 
said  Susan. 

"  They  would  be  sure  to  do  so,  sooner  or  later. 
Here  has  my  lord  been  recounting  in  his  trouble  about 
my  lady's  fine  match  for  her  Bess,  all  that  hath  come 
of  mating  with  royal  blood,  the  very  least  disaster 
being  poor  Lady  Mary  Grey's  !  Kept  in  ward  for 
life  !  It  is  a  cruel  matter.  I  would  that  I  had 
known  the  cipher  at  first.  Then  she  might  either  have 
been  disposed  of  at  the  Queen's  will,  or  have  been  sent 
safe  to  this  nunnery  at  Soissons." 

"  To  be  bred  a  Papist !      Oh  fie,  husband  ! " 

"  And  to  breed  dissension  in  the  kingdoms  ! "  added 
her  husband.  "  It  is  best  so  far  for  the  poor  maiden 
herself  to  have  thy  tender  hand  over  her  than  that  of 
any  queen  or  abbess  of  them  all." 

"  Shall  we  then  keep  all  things  as  they  are,  and 
lock  this  knowledge  in  our  own  hearts  ?"  asked  Susan 
hopefully. 

"  To  that  am  I  mightily  inclined,"  said  Eichard. 
"  Were  it  blazed  abroad  at  once,  thou  and  I  might  be 
made  out  guilty  of  I  know  not  what  for  concealing  it ; 
and  as  to  the  maiden,  she  would  either  be  put  in  close 
ward  with  her  mother,  or,  what  would  be  more  likely, 
had  up  to  court  to  be  watched,  and  flouted,  and  spied 
upon,  as  were  the  two  poor  ladies — sisters  to  the  Lady 
Jane — ere  they  made  their  lot  hopeless  by  marrying. 
Nay,  I  have  seen  those  who  told  me  that  poor  Lady 
Katherine  was  scarce  worse  bested  in  the  Tower  than 
she  was  while  at  court." 

"  My  poor  Cis  !     JSTo,  no  !     The  only  cause  for  which 


102  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

I  could  bear  to  yield  her  up  would  be  the  thought  that 
she  would  bring  comfort  to  the  heart  of  the  poor 
captive  mother  who  hath  the  best  right  to  her." 

"  Forsooth !  I  suspect  her  poor  captive  mother 
would  scarce  be  pleased  to  find  this  witness  to  her  ill- 
advised  marriage  in  existence." 

"  Nor  would  she  be  permitted  to  be  with  her." 

"  Assuredly  not.  Moreover,  what  could  she  do  with 
the  poor  child  ? " 

"  Eear  her  in  Popery/'  exclaimed  Susan,  to  whom 
the  word  was  terrible. 

"  Yea,  and  make  her  hand  secure  as  the  bait  to 
some  foreign  prince  or  some  English  traitor,  who  would 
fain  overthrow  Queen  and  Church." 

Susan  shuddered.  "  Oh  yes  !  let  us  keep  the  poor 
child  to  ourselves.  I  could  not  give  her  up  to  such 
a  lot  as  that.  And  it  might  imperil  you  too,  my  hus- 
band. I  should  like  to  get  up  instantly  and  burn  the 
scroll." 

"  I  doubt  me  whether  that  were  expedient,"  said 
Eichard.  "  Suppose  it  were  in  the  course  of  providence 
that  the  young  King  of  Scots  should  not  live,  then  would 
this  maid  be  the  means  of  uniting  the  two  kingdoms 
in  the  true  and  Eeformed  faith  !  Heaven  forefend  that 
he  should  be  cut  off,  but  meseemeth  that  we  have  no 
right  to  destroy  the  evidence  that  may  one  day  be  a 
precious  thing  to  the  kingdom  at  large."    . 

"No  chance  eye  could  read  it  even  were  it  dis- 
covered ?"  said  Susan. 

"  No,  indeed.  Thou  knowest  how  I  strove  in  vain 
to  read  it  at  first,  and  even  now,  when  Frank  Talbot 
unwittingly  gave  me  the  key,  it  was  days  before  I  could 
fully  read  it.  It  will  tell  no  tales,  sweet  wife,  that 
can  prejudice  any  one,  so  we  will  let  it  be,  even  with 


VIII. J  THE  KEY  OF  THE  CIPHER. 

the  baby  clouts.  So  now  to  sleep,  with  no  more 
thoughts  on  the  matter." 

That  was  easy  to  say,  but  Susan  lay  awake  long, 
pondering  over  the  wonder,  and  only  slept  to  dream 
strange,  dreams  of  queens  and  princesses,  ay,  and 
worse,  for  she  finally  awoke  with  a  scream,  thinking 
her  husband  was  on  the  scaffold,  and  that  Humfrey 
and  Cis  were  walking  up  the  ladder,  hand  in  hand 
with  their  necks  bared,  to  follow  him  ! 

There  was  no  need  to  bid  her  hold  her  tongue. 
She  regarded  the  secret  with  dread  and  horror,  and  a 
sense  of  something  amiss  which  she  could  not  quite 
define,  though  she  told  herself  she  was  only  acting 
in  obedience  to  her  husband,  and  indeed  her  judgment 
went  along-  with  his. 

o 

Often  she  looked  at  the  unconscious  Cis,  studying 
whether  the  child's  parentage  could  be  detected  in  her 
features.  But  she  gave  promise  of  being  of  larger 
frame  than  her  mother,  who  had  the  fine  limbs  and 
contour  of  her  Lorraine  ancestry,  whereas  Cis  did. 
as  Eichard  said,  seem  to  have  the  sturdy  outlines  of 
the  Borderer  race  from  whom  her  father  came.  She 
was  round-faced  too,  and  sunburnt,  with  deep  gray 
eyes  under  black  straight  brows,  capable  of  frowning 
heavily.  She  did  not  look  likely  ever  to  be  the 
fascinating  beauty  which  all  declared  her  mother  to 
be — though  those  who  saw  the  captive  at  Sheffield, 
believed  the  charm  to  be  more  in  indefinable  space 
than  in  actual  features,  —  in  a  certain  wonderful 
smile  and  sparkle,  a  mixed  pathos  and  archness  which 
seldom  failed  of  its  momentary  effect,  even  upon 
those  who  most  rebelled  against  it.  Poor  little  Cis,  a 
sturdy  girl  of  twelve  or  thirteen,  playing  at  ball  with 
little  Xed  on  the  terrace,  and  coming  with  tardy  steps 


104  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

to  her  daily  task  of  spinning,  had  little  of  the  princess 
about  her ;  and  yet  when  she  sat  down,  and  the  manage- 
ment of  distaff  and  thread  threw  her  shoulders  back, 
there  was  something  in  the  poise  of  her  small  head  and 
the  gesture  of  her  hand  that  forcibly  recalled  the  Queen. 
Moreover,  all  the  boys  around  were  at  her  beck  and 
call,  not  only  Humfrey  and  poor  Antony  Babington, 
but  Cavendishes,  Pierrepoints,  all  the  young  pages  and 
grandsons  who  dwelt  at  castle  or  lodge,  and  attended 
Master  Sniggius's  school.  Nay,  the  dominie  himself, 
though  owning  that  Mistress  Cicely  promoted  idleness 
and  inattention  among  his  pupils,  had  actually 
volunteered  to  come  down  to  Bridgefield  twice  a  week 
himself  to  prevent  her  from  forgetting  her  Lilly's  gram- 
mar and  her  Caesar's  Commentaries,  an  attention  with 
which  this  young  lady  would  willingly  have  dispensed. 
Stewart,  Lorraine,  Hepburn,  the  blood  of  all  com- 
bined was  a  perilous  inheritance,  and  good  Susan 
Talbot's  instinct  was  that  the  young  girl  whom  she 
loved  truly  like  her  own  daughter  would  need  all  the 
more  careful  and  tender  watchfulness  and  training  to 
overcome  any  tendencies  that  might  descend  to  her. 
Pity  increased  her  affection,  and  even  while  in  ordinary 
household  life  it  was  easy  to  forget  who  and  what  the 
girl  really  was,  yet  Cis  was  conscious  that  she  was 
admitted  to  the  intimacy  and  privileges  of  an  elder 
daughter,  and  made  a  companion  and  friend,  while  her 
contemporaries  at  the  Manor-house  were  treated  as 
children,  and  rated  roundly,  their  fingers  tapped  with 
fans,  their  shoulders  even  whipped,  whenever  they 
transgressed.  Cis  did  indeed  live  under  equal  re- 
straint, but  it  was  the  wise  and  gentle  restraint  of 
firm  influence  and  constant  watchfulness,  which  took 
from  her  the  wish  to  resist. 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  105 


CHAPTER  IX. 

UNQUIET. 

Bridgefield  was  a  peaceable  household,  and  the  castle 
and  manor  beyond  might  envy  its  calm. 

From  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth  Caven- 
dish with  the  young  Earl  of  Lennox  all  the  shreds 
of  comfort  which  had  remained  to  the  unfortunate 
Earl  had  vanished.  Eirst  he  had  to  clear  himself 
before  Queen  Elizabeth  from  having  been  a  consent- 
ing party,  and  then  he  found  his  wife  furious  with 
him  at  his  displeasure  at  her  daughter's  aggrandise- 
ment. Moreover,  whereas  she  had  formerly  been 
on  terms  of  friendly  gossiphood  with  the  Scottish 
Queen,  she  now  went  over  to  the  Lennox  side  because 
her  favourite  daughter  had  married  among  them ;  and 
it  was  evident  that  from  that  moment  all  amity 
between  her  and  the  prisoner  was  at  an  end. 

She  was  enraged  that  her  husband  would  not  at  once 
change  his  whole  treatment  of  the  Queen,  and  treat  her 
as  such  guilt  deserved ;  and  with  the  illogical  dulness 
of  a  passionate  woman,  she  utterly  scouted  and  failed  to 
comprehend  the  argument  that  the  unhappy  Mary  was, 
to  say  the  least  of  it,  no  more  guilty  now  than  when 
she  came  into  their  keeping,  and  that  to  alter  their  de- 
meanour towards  her  would  be  unjust  and  unreasonable. 


1  0  6  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

"  My  Lady  is  altogether  beyond  reason,"  said  Captain 
Talbot,  returning  one  evening  to  his  wife ;  "  neither 
my  Lord  nor  her  daughter  can  do  ought  with  her ;  so 
puffed  up  is  she  with  this  marriage  !  Moreover,  she  is 
hotly  angered  that  young  Babington  should  have  been 
sent  away  from  her  retinue  without  notice  to  her,  and 
demands  our  Humfrey  in  his  stead  as  a  page." 

"  He  is  surely  too  old  for  a  page !"  said  his  mother, 
thinking  of  her  tall  well-grown  son  of  fifteen. 

"  So  said  I,"  returned  Eichard.  "  I  had  sooner  it 
were  Diccon,  and  so  I  told  his  lordship." 

Before  Bichard  could  speak  for  them,  the  two  boys 
came  in,  eager  and  breathless.  "  Father  !"  cried  Hum- 
frey, "  who  think  you  is  at  Hull  ?  Why,  none  other 
than  your  old  friend  and  shipmate,  Captain  Frobisher  !" 

"Ha!  Martin  Frobisher!  Who  told  thee,  Hum- 
frey r 

"  Faithful  Ekins,  sir,  who  had  it  from  the  Doncaster 
carrier,  who  saw  Captain  Frobisher  himself,  and  was 
asked  by  him  if  you,  sir,  were  not  somewhere  in 
Yorkshire,  and  if  so,  to  let  you  know  that  he  will  be 
in  Hull  till  May-day,  getting  men  together  for  a  voy- 
age to  the  northwards,  where  there  is  gold  to  be  had 
for  the  picking — and  if  you  had  a  likely  son  or  two, 
now  was  the  time  to  make  their  fortunes,  and  show 
them  the  world.  He  said,  any  way  you  might  ride  to 
see  an  old  comrade." 

"  A  long  message  for  two  carriers,"  said  Bichard  Tal- 
bot, smiling,  "but  Martin  never  was  a  scribe !" 

"  But,  sir,  you  will  let  me  go,"  cried  Humfrey, 
eagerly.  "  I  mean,  I  pray  you  to  let  me  go.  Dear 
mother,  say  nought  against  it,"  entreated  the  youth. 
"  Cis,  think  of  my  bringing  thee  home  a  gold  bracelet 
like  mother's." 


I.X.J  UNQUIET.  107 

"  "What,"  said  his  father,  "  when  my  Lady  has  just 
craved  thee  for  a  page." 

"  A  page  ! "  said  Humfrey,  with  infinite  contempt — 
"  to  hear  all  their  tales  and  bickerings,  hold  skeins  of 
silk,  amble  mincingly  along  galleries,  be  begged  to  bear 
messages  that  may  have  more  in  them  than  one  knows, 
and  be  noted  for  a  bear  if  one  refuses." 

The  father  and  Cis  laughed,  the  mother  looked 
unhappy. 

"  So  Martin  is  at  Hull,  is  he  ? "  said  Eichard,  mus- 
ingly. "  If  my  Lord  can  give  me  leave  for  a  week  or 
fortnight,  methinks  I  must  ride  to  see  the  stout  old 
knave." 

"  And  oh,  sweet  father  !  prithee  take  me  with  you," 
entreated  Humfrey,  "  if  it  be  only  to  come  back  again. 
I  have  not  seen  the  sea  since  we  came  here,  and  yet 
the  sound  is  in  my  ears  as  I  fall  asleep.  I  entreat 
of  you  to  let  me  come,  good  my  father." 

"  And,  good  father,  let  me  come,"  exclaimed  Diccon ; 
"  I  have  never  even  seen  the  sea  ! " 

"  And  dear,  sweet  father,  take  me,"  entreated  little 
Ned 

"  Nay,"  cried  Cis,  "  what  should  I  do  ?  Here  is 
Antony  Babington  borne  off  to  Cambridge,  and  you  all 
wanting  to  leave  me." 

"I'll  come  home  better  worth  than  he!"  muttered 
Humfrey,  who  thought  he  saw  consent  on  his  father's 
brow,  and  drew  her  aside  into  the  deep  window. 

"  You'll  come  back  a  rude  sailor,  smelling  of  pitch 
and  tar,  and  Antony  will  be  a  well-bred,  point-device 
scholar,  who  will  know  how  to  give  a  lady  his  hand," 
said  the  teasing  girl. 

And  so  the  playful  war  was  carried  on,  while  the 
father,  having  silenced  and  dismissed  the  two  younger 


108  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

lads,  expressed  his  intention  of  obtaining  leave  of 
absence,  if  possible,  from  the  Earl." 

"  Yea,"  he  added  to  his  wife,  "  I  shall  even  let 
Humfrey  go  with  me.  It  is  time  he  looked  beyond 
the  walls  of  this  place,  which  is  little  better  than  a 
prison." 

"  And  will  yon  let  him  go  on  this  strange  voyage  ?" 
she  asked  wistfully,  "  he,  onr  first-born,  and  our  heir." 

"For  that,  dame,  remember  his  namesake,  my 
poor  brother,  was  the  one  who  stayed  at  home,  I  the  one 
to  go  forth,  and  here  am  I  now  !"  The  lad's  words 
may  have  set  before  thee  weightier  perils  in  yonder 
park  than  he  is  like  to  meet  among  seals  and  bears 
under  honest  old  Martin." 

"  Yet  here  he  has  your  guidance,"  said  Susan. 

"  Who  knows  how  they  might  play  on  his  honour 
as  to  talebearing  ?  Nay,  good  wife,  when  thou  hast 
thought  it  over,  thou  wilt  see  that  far  fouler  shoals 
and  straits  lie  up  yonder,  than  in  the  free  open  sea  that 
God  Almighty  made.  Martin  is  a  devout  and  godly 
man,  who  hath  matins  and  evensong  on  board  each 
day  when  the  weather  is  not  too  foul,  and  looks  well 
that  there  be  no  ill-doings  in  his  ship ;  and  if  he  have 
a  berth  for  thy  lad,  it  will  be  a  better  school  for  him 
than  where  two-thirds  of  the  household  are  raging 
against  one  another,  and  the  third  ever  striving  to 
corrupt  and  outwit  the  rest.  I  am  weary  of  it  all ! 
Would  that  I  could  once  get  into  blue  water  again, 
and  leave  it  all  behind  ! " 

"You  will  not!  Oh!  you  will  not!"  implored 
Susan.  "  Eemember,  my  dear,  good  lord,  how  you  said 
all  your  duties  lay  at  home." 

"I  remember,  my  good  housewife.  Thou  needst 
not  fear  for  me.     But  there  is  little  time  to  spare.     If 


IX.]  UX  QUIET.  100 

I  am  to  see  mine  old  friend,  I  must  get  speech  of  my 
Lord  to-night,  so  as  to  be  on  horseback  to-morrow. 
Saddle  me  Brown  Dumpling,  boys." 

And  as  the  boys  went  off,  persuading  Cis,  who  went 
coyly  protesting  that  the  paddock  was  damp,  yet  still 
folio  wine;  after  them,  he  added,  "  Yea,  Sue,  considering 
all,  it  is  better  those  two  were  apart  for  a  year  or  so, 
till  we  see  better  what  is  this  strange  nestling  that  we 
have  reared.  Ay,  thou  art  like  the  mother  sparrow 
that  hath  bred  up  a  cuckoo  and  doteth  on  it,  yet  it 
mateth  not  with  her  brood." 

"  It  casteth  them  out,"  said  Susan,  "  as  thou  art 
doing  now,  by  your  leave,  husband." 

"  Only  for  a  flight,  gentle  mother,"  he  answered, 
"  only  for  a  flight,  to  prove  meanwhile  whether  there 
be  the  making  of  a  simple  household  bird,  or  of  a 
hawk  that  might  tear  her  mate  to  pieces,  in  yonder 
nestling." 

Susan  was  too  dutiful  a  wife  to  say  more,  though 
her  motherly  heart  was  wrung  almost  as  much  at  the 
implied  distrust  of  her  adopted  daughter  as  by  the 
sudden  parting  with  her  first-born  to  the  dangers  of 
the  northern  seas.  She  could  better  enter  into  her 
husband's  fears  of  the  temptations  of  page  life  at  Shef- 
field, and  being  altogether  a  wife,  "  bonner  and  bough - 
some,"  as  her  marriage  vow  held  it,  she  applied  herself 
and  Cis  to  the  choosing  of  the  shirts  and  the  crimping 
of  the  ruffs  that  were  to  appear  in  Hull,  if,  for  there 
was  this  hope  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  my  Lord  might 
refuse  leave  of  absence  to  his  "  gentleman  porter." 

The  hope  was  fallacious  ;  Eichard  reported  that  my 
Lord  was  so  much  relieved  to  find  that  he  had  detected 
no  fresh  conspiracy,  as  to  be  willing  to  grant  him  a 
fortnight's  leave,  and  even  had  said  with  a  sigh  that 


110  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

he  was  in  the  right  on't  about  his  son,  for  Sheffield 
was  more  of  a  school  for  plotting  than  for  chivalry. 

It  was  a  point  of  honour  with  every  good  house- 
wife to  have  a  store  of  linen  equal  to  any  emergency, 
and,  indeed,  as  there  were  no  washing  days  in  the 
winter,  the  stock  of  personal  body -linen  was  at  all 
times  nearly  a  sufficient  outfit ;  so  the  main  of  Hum- 
frey's  shirts  were  to  be  despatched  by  a  carrier,  in  the 
trust  that  they  would  reach  him  before  the  expedition 
should  sail.  >. 

There  was  then  little  to  delay  the  father  and  son, 
after  the  mother,  with  fast -gathering  tears  resolutely 
forced  back,  had  packed  and  strapped  their  mails,  with 
Cis's  help,  Humfrey  standing  by,  booted  and  spurred, 
and  talking  fast  of  the  wonders  he  should  see,  and  the 
gold  and  ivory  he  should  bring  home,  to  hide  the 
qualms  of  home-sickness,  and  mother-sickness,  he  was 
already  beginning  to  feel ;  and  maybe  to  get  Cis  to 
pronounce  that  then  she  should  think  more  of  him  than 
of  Antony  Babington  with  his  airs  and  graces.  Wist- 
fully did  the  lad  watch  for  some  such  tender  assurance, 
but  Cis  seemed  all  provoking  brilliancy  and  teasing. 
"  She  knew  he  would  be  back  over  soon.  Oh  no,  he 
would  never  go  to  sea  !  She  feared  not.  Mr.  Frobisher 
would  have  none  of  such  awkward  lubbers.  More's 
the  pity.  There  would  be  some  peace  to  get  to  do  her 
broidery,  and  leave  to  play  on  the  virginals  when  he 
was  gone." 

But  when  the  horsemen  had  disappeared  down  the 
avenue,  Cis  hid  herself  in  a  corner  and  cried  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 

She  cried  again  behind  the  back  of  the  tall  settle 
when  the  father  came  back  alone,  full  of  praises  of 
Captain  Frobisher,  his  ship,  and  his  company,  and  his 


IX.  j  UNQUIET.  Ill 

assurances  that  he  would  watch  over  Humfrey  like  his 
own  son. 

Meantime  the  domestic  storms  at  the  park  were 
such  that  Master  Eichard  and  his  wife  were  not  sorry 
that  the  boy  was  not  growing  up  in  the  midst  of  them, 
though  the  Countess  rated  Susan  severely  for  her 
ingratitude. 

Queen  Elizabeth  was  of  course  much  angered  at  the 
Lennox  match,  and  the  Earl  had  to  write  letter  after 
letter  to  clear  himself  from  any  participation  in  bringing 
it  about.  Queen  Mary  also  wrote  to  clear  herself  of  it, 
and  to  show  that  she  absolutely  regretted  it,  as  she  had 
small  esteem  for  Bess  Cavendish.  Moreover,  though 
Lady  Shrewsbury's  friendship  might  not  be  a  very 
pleasant  thing,  it  was  at  least  better  than  her  hostility. 
However,  she  was  not  much  at  Sheffield.  Not  only 
was  she  very  angry  with  her  husband,  but  Queen 
Elizabeth  had  strictly  forbidden  the  young  Lord  Lennox 
from  coming  under  the  same  roof  with  his  royal  sister- 
in-law.  He  was  a  weakly  youth,  and  his  wife's  health 
failed  immediately  after  her  marriage,  so  that  Lady 
Shrewsbury  remained  almost  constantly  at  Chatsworth 
with  her  darling. 

Gilbert  Talbot,  who  was  the  chief  peacemaker  of  the 
family,  went  to  and  fro,  wrote  letters  and  did  his  best, 
which  would  have  been  more  effective  but  for  Mary,  his 
wife,  who,  no  doubt,  detailed  all  the  gossip  of  Sheffield  at 
Chatsworth,  as  she  certainly  amused  Sheffield  with 
stories  of  her  sister  Bess  as  a  royal  countess  full  of 
airs  and  humours,  and  her  mother  treating  her,  if  not 
as  a  queen,  at  least  on  the  high  road  to  become  one, 
and  how  the  haughty  dame  of  Shrewsbury  ran  will- 
ingly to  pick  up  her  daughter's  kerchief,  and  stood 
over  the  fire  stirring  the  posset,  rather  than  let  it  fail 


112  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

to  tempt  the  appetite  which  became  more  dainty  by 
being  cossetted. 

The  difference  made  between  Lady  Lennox  and  her 
elder  sisters  was  not  a  little  nettling  to  Dame  Mary 
Talbot,  who  held  that  some  consideration  was  her  due, 
as  the  prond  mother  of  the  only  grandson  of  the  house 
of  Shrewsbury,  little  George,  who  was  just  able  to  be 
put  on  horseback  in  the  court,  and  say  he  was  riding 
to  see  "  Lady  Danmode,"  and  to  drink  the  health  of 
"  Lady  Danmode  "  at  his  meals. 

Alas  !  the  little  hope  of  the  Talbots  suddenly  faded. 
One  evening  after  supper  a  message  came  down  in 
haste  to  beg  for  the  aid  of  Mistress  Susan,  who,  though 
much  left  to  the  seclusion  of  Bridgefield  in  prosperous 
days,  was  always  a  resource  in  trouble  or  difficulty. 
Little  George,  then  two  and  a  half  years  old,  had  been 
taken  suddenly  ill  after  a  supper  on  marchpane  and 
plum  broth,  washed  down  by  Christmas  ale.  Convul- 
sions had  come  on,  and  the  skill  of  Queen  Mary's 
apothecary  had  only  gone  so  far  as  to  bleed  him. 
Susan  arrived  only  just  in  time  to  see  the  child  breathe 
his  last  sigh,  and  to  have  his  mother,  wild  with 
tumultuous  clamorous  grief,  put  into  her  hands  for 
such  soothing  and  comforting  as  might  be  possible,  and 
the  good  and  tender  woman  did  her  best  to  turn  the 
mother's  thoughts  to  something  higher  and  better  than 
the  bewailing  at  one  moment  "  her  pretty  boy,"  with  a 
sort  of  animal  sense  of  bereavement,  and  the  next 
with  lamentations  over  the  honours  to  which  he  would 
have  succeeded.  It  was  of  little  use  to  speak  to  her 
of  the  eternal  glories  of  which  he  was  now  secure,  for 
Mary  Talbot's  sorrow  was  chiefly  selfish,  and  was  con- 
nected with  the  loss  of  her  pre-eminence  as  parent  to 
the  heir-male. 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  113 

However,  the  grief  of  those  times  was  apt  to  expend 
itself  quickly,  and  when  little  George's  coffin,  smothered 
under  heraldic  devices  and  funeral  escutcheons,  had 
"been  bestowed  in  the  family  vault,  Dame  Mary  soon 
revived  enough  to  take  a  warm  interest  in  the  lords 
who  were  next  afterwards  sent  down  to  hold  conferences 
with  the  captive ;  and  her  criticism  of  the  fashion  of  their 
ruffs  and  doublets  was  as  animated  as  ever.  Another 
grief,  however,  soon  fell  upon  the  family.  Lady  Len- 
nox's ailments  proved  to  be  no  such  trifles  as  her  sisters 
and  sisters-in-law  had  been  pleased  to  suppose,  and 
before  the  year  was  out,  she  had  passed  away  from  all 
her  ambitious  hopes,  leaving  a  little  daughter.  The 
Earl  took  a  brief  leave  of  absence  to  visit  his  lady  in 
her  affliction  at  Chatsworth,  and  to  stand  godfather  te 
the  motherless  infant. 

"  She  will  soon  be  fatherless,  too,"  said  Eichard 
Talbot  on  his  return  to  Bridgefield,  after  attending  his 
lord  on  this  expedition.  "My  young  Lord  Lennox, 
poor  youth,  is  far  gone  in  the  wasting  sickness,  as  well 
as  distraught  with  grief,  and  he  could  scarcely  stand  to 
receive  my  Lord." 

"  Our  poor  lady  !"  said  Susan,  "it  pities  me  to  think 
what  hopes  she  had  fixed  upon  that  young  couple  whom 
she  had  mated  together." 

"  I  doubt  me  whether  her  hopes  be  ended  now," 
quoth  Eichard.  "  What  think  you  she  hath  fixed  on 
as  the  name  of  the  poor  puling  babe  yonder  ?  They 
have  called  her  Arbel  or  Arabella." 

"  Arabella,  say  you  ?  I  never  heard  such  a  name. 
It  is  scarce  Christian.      Is  it  out  of  a  romaunt  ? " 

"  Better  that  it  were.  It  is  out  of  a  pedigree.  They 
have  got  the  whole  genealogy  of  the  house  of  Lennox 
blazoned  fair,  with  crowns  and  coronets  and  coats  of 
vol.  i.  i 


114  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

arms  hung  up  in  the  hall  at  Chatsworth,  going  up  on 
the  one  hand  through  Sir  iEneas  of  Troy,  and  on  the 
other  hand  through  Woden  to  Adam  and  Eve  !  Pass 
for  all  before  the  Stewart  line  became  Kings  of  Scots  t 
Well,  it  seems  that  these  Lennox  Stewarts  sprang  from 
one  Walter,  who  was  son  to  King  Robert  II.,  and  that 
the  mother  of  this  same  Walter  was  called  Arnhild,  or 
as  the  Scots  here  call  it  Annaple,  but  the  scholars  have 
made  it  into  Arabella,  and  so  my  young  lady  is  to  be 
called.  They  say  it  was  a  special  fancy  of  the  young 
Countess's." 

"  So  I  should  guess.  My  lady  would  fill  her  head 
with  such  thoughts,  and  of  this  poor  youth  being  next 
of  kin  to  the  young  Scottish  king,  and  to  our  own 
Queen." 

"  He  is  not  next  heir  to  Scotland  even,  barring  a 
little  one  we  wot  of,  Dame  Sue.  The  Hamiltons  stand 
between,  being  descended  from  a  daughter  of  King 
James  I." 

"  So  methought  I  had  heard.     Are  they  not  Papists  ?" 

"  Yea  !  Ah  ha,  sweetheart,  there  is  another  of  the 
house  of  Hardwicke  as  fain  to  dreams  of  greatness  for 
her  child  as  ever  was  the  Countess,  though  she  may 
be  more  discreet  in  the  telling  of  them." 

"  Ah  me,  dear  sir,  I  dreamt  not  of  greatness  for 
splendour's  sake — 'twere  scarce  for  the  dear  child's 
happiness.  I  only  thought  of  what  you  once  said, 
that  she  may  be  the  instrument  of  preserving  the  true 
religion." 

"  And  if  so,  it  can  only  be  at  a  mighty  cost !"  said 
her  husband. 

*  Verily,"  said  Susan,  "  glad  am  I  that  you  sent  our 
Humfrey  from  her.  Would  that  nought  had  ever 
passed  between  the  children  !" 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  115 

"  They  were  but  children,"  said  Eichard  ;  "  and  there 
was  no  contract  between  them." 

"  I  fear  me  there  was  what  Humfrey  will  hold  to, 
or  know  good  reason  why,"  said  his  mother. 

"  And  were  the  young  King  of  Scots  married  and 
father  to  a  goodly  heir,  there  is  no  reason  he  should 
not  hold  to  it,"  rejoined  Eichard. 

However  Eichard  was  still  anxious  to  keep  his  son 
engaged  at  a  distance  from  Sheffield.  There  was  great 
rejoicing  and  thankfulness  when  one  of  the  many 
messengers  constantly  passing  between  London  and 
Sheffield  brought  a  packet  from  Humfrey,  whose  ship 
had  put  into  the  Thames  instead  of  the  Humber. 

The  packet  contained  one  of  the  black  stones  which 
the  science  of  the  time  expected  to  transmute  into  gold, 
also  some  Esquimaux  trinkets  made  of  bone,  and  a  few 
shells.  These  were  for  the  mother  and  Cis,  and  there 
were  also  the  tusks  of  a  sea- elephant  which  Humfrey 
would  lay  up  at  my  Lord's  London  lodgings  till  his 
father  sent  tidings  what  should  be  done  with  them,  and 
whether  he  should  come  home  at  once  by  sea  to  Hull, 
or  if,  as  he  much  desired  to  do,  he  might  join  an  expe- 
dition which  was  fitting  out  for  the  Spanish  Main,  where 
he  was  assured  that  much  more  both  of  gold  and  hon- 
our was  to  be  acquired  than  in  the  cold  northern  seas, 
where  nothing  was  to  be  seen  for  the  fog  at  most  times, 
and  when  it  cleared  only  pigmies,  with  their  dogs,  white 
bears,  and  seals,  also  mountains  of  ice  bigger  than  any 
church,  blue  as  my  lady's  best  sapphires,  green  as  her 
emeralds,  sparkling  as  her  diamonds,  but  ready  to  be 
the  destruction  of  the  ships. 

"  One  there  was,"  wrote  Humfrey,  "  that  I  could 
have  thought  was  no  other  than  the  City  that  the 
blessed  St.  John  saw  descending  from  Heaven,  so  fair 


116  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

was  it  to  look  on,  but  they  cried  out  that  it  was  rather 
a  City  of  Destruction,  and  when  we  had  got  out  of  the 
current  where  it  was  bearing  down  on  us,  our  noble 
captain  piped  all  hands  up  to  prayers,  and  gave  thanks 
for  our  happy  deliverance  therefrom." 

Susan  breathed  a  thanksgiving  as  her  husband  read, 
and  he  forbore  to  tell  her  of  the  sharks,  the  tornadoes, 
and  the  fevers  which  might  make  the  tropical  seas  more 
perilous  than  the  Arctic.  No  Elizabethan  mariner  had 
any  scruples  respecting  piracy,  and  so  long  as  the  cap- 
tain was  a  godly  man  who  kept  up  strict  discipline  on 
board,  Master  Eichard  held  the  quarterdeck  to  be  a 
much  more  wholesome  place  than  the  Manor-house, 
and  much  preferred  the  humours  of  the  ship  to  those 
of  any  other  feminine  creature ;  for,  as  to  his  Susan,  he 
always  declared  that  she  was  the  only  woman  who  had 
none. 

So  she  accepted  his  decision,  and  saw  the  wisdom 
of  it,  though  her  tender  heart  deeply  felt  the  disap- 
pointment. Tenderly  she  packed  up  the  shirts  which 
she  and  Cis  had  finished,  and  bestrewed  them  with 
lavender,  which,  as  she  said,  while  a  tear  dropped  with 
the  gray  blossoms,  would  bring  the  scent  of  home  to 
the  boy. 

Cis  affected  to  be  indifferent  and  offended.  "  Mas- 
ter Humfrey  might  do  as  he  chose.  She  did  not  care 
if  he  did  prefer  pitch  and  tar,  and  whale  blubber  and 
grease,  to  hawks  and  hounds,  and  lords  and  ladies.  She 
was  sure  she  wanted  no  more  great  lubberly  lads — with 
a  sly  cut  at  Diccon — to  tangle  her  silk,  and  torment 
her  to  bait  their  hooks.  She  was  well  quit  of  any  one 
of  them. 

When  Diccon  proposed  that  she  should  write  a 
letter  to  Humfrey,  she  declared  that  she  should  do  no 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  117 

such  thing,  since  lie  had  never  attempted  to  write  to 
her.  In  truth  Diccon  may  have  made  the  proposal 
in  order  to  obtain  a  companion  in  misfortune,  since 
Master  Sniggius,  emulous  of  the  success  of  other  tutors, 
insisted  on  his  writing  to  his  brother  in  Latin,  and  the 
unfortunate  epistle  of  Ricardus  to  Onofredus  was 
revised  and  corrected  to  the  last  extremity,  and  as  it 
was  allowed  to  contain  no  word  unknown  to  Yirgilius 
Maro,  it  could  not  have  afforded  much  delectation  to 
the  recipient. 

But  when  Mrs.  Susan  had  bestowed  all  the  shirts 
as  neatly  as  possible,  on  returning  to  settle  them  for 
the  last  time  before  wrapping  them  up  for  the  messen- 
ger, she  felt  something  hard  among  them.  It  was  a 
tiny  parcel  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  a  fine  kerchief,  tied 
round  with  a  tress  of  dark  hair,  and  within,  Susan 
knew  by  the  feeling,  a  certain  chess  rook  which  had 
been  won  by  Cis  when  shooting  at  the  butts  a  week 
or  two  before. 


118  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE  X. 

THE   LADY  AEBELL. 

After  several  weary  months  of  languishing,  Charles 
Stewart  was  saved  from  the  miseries  which  seemed 
the  natural  inheritance  of  his  name  by  sinking  into 
his  grave.  His  funeral  was  conducted  with  the 
utmost  magnificence,  though  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury 
declined  to  be  present  at  it,  and  shortly  after,  the 
Countess  intimated  her  purpose  of  returning  to  Sheffield, 
bringing  with  her  the  little  orphan,  Lady  Arabella 
Stewart.  Orders  came  that  the  best  presence  chamber  in 
the  Manor-house  should  be  prepared,  the  same  indeed 
where  Queen  Mary  had  been  quartered  before  the 
lodge  had  been  built  for  her  use.  The  Earl  was 
greatly  perturbed.  "  Whom  can  she  intend  to  bring  ?  " 
he  went  about  asking.  "  If  it  were  the  Lady  Margaret, 
it  were  as  much  as  my  head  were  worth  to  admit  her 
within  the  same  grounds  as  this  Queen." 

"  There  is  no  love  lost  between  the  mother-in-law 
and  daughter-in-law,"  observed  his  son  Gilbert  in  a 
consolatory  tone. 

"  Little  good  would  that  do  to  me,  if  once  it  came 
to  the  ears  of  her  Grace  and  the  Lord  Treasurer  that 
both  had  been  my  guests  !  And  if  I  had  to  close  the 
gates — though  in  no  other  way  could  I  save  my  life 


X]  THE  LADY  ARBELL.  119 

and  honour — your  mother  would  never  forget  it.  It 
would  be  east  up  to  me  for  ever.  What  think  you, 
daughter  Talbot  ? " 

"  Mayhap,"  said  Dame  Mary,  "  my  lady  mother 
has  had  a  hint  to  make  ready  for  her  Majesty  herself, 
who  hath  so  often  spoken  of  seeing  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  and  might  think  well  to  take  her  unawares." 

This  was  a  formidable  suggestion.  "  Say  you  so," 
eried  the  poor  Earl,  with  an  alarm  his  eye  would  never 
have  betrayed  had  Parma  himself  been  within  a  march 
of  Sheffield,  "then  were  we  fairly  spent.  I  am  an 
impoverished  man,  eaten  out  of  house  and  lands  as  it 
is,  and  were  the  Queen  herself  to  come,  I  might  take 
at  once  to  the  beggar's  bowl." 

"  But  think  of  the  honour,  good  my  lord,"  cried 
Mary.  "  Think  of  all  Hallamshire  coming  to  do  her 
homage.  Oh,  how  I  should  laugh  to  hear  the  Mayor 
stumbling  over  his  address." 

"  Laugh,  ay,"  growled  the  Earl ;  "  and  how  will 
you  laugh  when  there  is  not  a  deer  left  in  the  park, 
nor  an  ox  in  the  stalls  ? " 

"  Xay,  my  Lord,"  interposed  Gilbert,  "  there  is  no 
fear  of  her  Majesty's  coming.  That  post  from  M.  de 
la  Mauvissiere  reported  her  at  Greenwich  only  five 
days  back,  and  it  would  take  her  Majesty  a  far  longer 
time  to  make  her  progress  than  yonder  fellow,  who 
will  tell  you  himself  that  she  had  no  thoughts  of 
moving." 

"  That  might  only  be  a  feint  to  be  the  more  sudden 
with  us,"  said  his  wife,  actuated  in  part  by  the  diversion 
of  alarming  her  father-in-law,  and  in  part  really  fired 
by  the  hope  of  such  an  effectual  enlivenment  of  the 
dulness  of  Sheffield. 

They  were  all  in  full  family  conclave  drawn  up  in 


120  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

the  hall  for  the  reception,  and  Mistress  Susan,  who 
could  not  bear  to  see  the  Earl  so  perplexed  and 
anxious,  ventured  to  say  that  she  was  quite  sure  that 
my  Lady  Countess  would  have  sent  warning  forward 
if  indeed  she  were  bringing  home  such  a  guest,  and  at 
that  moment  the  blare  of  trumpets  announced  that 
the  cavalcade  was  approaching.  The  start  which  the 
Earl  gave  showed  how  much  his  nerves  had  become 
affected  by  his  years  of  custody.  Up  the  long 
avenue  they  came,  with  all  the  state  with  which 
the  Earl  had  conducted  Qneen  Mary  to  the  lodge 
before  she  was  absolutely  termed  a  prisoner.  Hal- 
berdiers led  the  procession,  horse  and  foot  seemed 
to  form  it.  The  home  party  stood  on  the  top  of  the 
steps  watching  with  much  anxiety.  There  was  a 
closed  litter  visible,  beside  which  Lady  Shrewsbury, 
in  a  mourning  dress  and  hood,  could  be  seen  riding  her 
favourite  bay  palfrey.  No  doubt  it  contained  the  Lady 
Margaret,  Countess  of  Lennox ;  and  the  unfortunate  Earl, 
forgetting  all  his  stately  dignity,  stood  uneasily  moving 
from  leg  to  leg,  and  pulling  his  long  beard,  torn 
between  the  instincts  of  hospitality  and  of  loyal  obedi- 
ence, between  fear  of  his  wife  and  fear  of  the  Queen. 

The  litter  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  the  Earl 
descended.  All  he  saw  was  the  round  face  of  an 
infant  in  its  nurse's  arms,  and  he  turned  to  help  his  wife 
from  the  saddle,  but  she  waved  him  aside.  "  My  son 
Gilbert  will  aid  me,  my  Lord,"  said  she,  "  your  devoir  is 
to  the  princess." 

Poor  Lord  Shrewsbury,  his  apologies  on  his  tongue, 
looked  into  the  litter,  where  he  saw  the  well-known 
and  withered  countenance  of  the  family  nurse.  He  also 
beheld  a  buxom  young  female,  whose  dress  marked  her 
as  a  peasant,  but  before  he  had  time  to  seek  further  for 


X.]  THE  LADY  ARBELL.  121 

the  princess,  the  tightly  rolled  chrysalis  of  a  child  was 
thrust  into  his  astonished  arms,  while  the  round  face 
puckered  up  instantly  with  terror  at  sight  of  his 
bearded  countenance,  and  he  was  greeted  with  a  loud 
yell.  He  looked  helplessly  round,  and  his  lady  was 
ready  at  once  to  relieve  him.  "  My  precious  !  My 
sweetheart !  My  jewel !  Did  he  look  sour  at  her  and 
frighten  her  with  his  ugsome  "beard  ?"  and  the  like 
endearments  common  to  Grandmothers  in  all  ap;es. 

"But  where  is  the  princess?" 

"  Where  ?  Where  should  she  be  but  here  ?  Her 
grandame's  own  precious,  royal,  queenly  little  darling  !" 
and  as  a  fresh  cry  broke  out,  "  Yes,  yes ;  she  shall  to 
her  presence  chamber.     Usher  her,  Gilbert." 

"  Bess's  brat !"  muttered  Dame  Mary,  in  ineffable 
disappointment. 

Curiosity  and  the  habit  of  obedience  to  the  Countess 
carried  the  entire  troop  on  to  the  grand  apartments  on 
the  south  side,  where  Queen  Mary  had  been  lodged  while 
the  fiction  of  her  guestship  had  been  kept  up.  Lady 
Shrewsbury  was  all  the  time  trying  to  hush  the  child, 
who  was  quite  old  enough  to  be  terrified  by  new  faces 
and  new  scenes,  and  who  was  besides  tired  and  restless 
in  her  swaddling  bands,  for  which  she  was  so  nearly 
too  old  that  she  had  only  been  kept  in  them  for  greater 
security  upon  the  rough  and  dangerous  roads.  Great 
was  my  lady's  indignation  on  reaching  the  state 
rooms  on  finding  that  no  nursery  preparations  had 
been  made,  and  her  daughter  Mary,  with  a  giggle 
hardly  repressed  by  awe  of  her  mother,  stood  forth  and 
said,  "  Why,  verily,  my  lady,  we  expected  some  great 
dame,  my  Lady  Margaret  or  my  Lady  Hunsdon  at  the 
very  least,  when  you  spoke  of  a  princess." 

"  And  who  should  it  be  but  one  who  has  both  the 


122  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

royal  blood  of  England  and  Scotland  in  her  veins  ? " 
You  have  not  saluted  the  child  to  whom  you  have  the 
honour  to  be  akin,  Mary  !  On  your  knee,  minion  ;  I 
tell  you  she  hath  as  good  or  a  better  chance  of  wearing 
a  crown  as  any  woman  in  England." 

"  She  hath  a  far  better  chance  of  a  prison," 
muttered  the  Earl,  "  if  all  this  foolery  goes  on." 

"What!  What  is  that?  What  are  you  calling 
these  honours  to  my  orphan  princess  ?"  cried  the  lady, 
but  the  princess  herself  here  broke  in  with  the  lustiest 
of  squalls,  and  Susan,  who  was  sorry  for  the  child, 
contrived  to  insert  an  entreaty  that  my  lady  would 
permit  her  to  be  taken  at  once  to  the  nursery  chamber 
that  had  been  made  ready  for  her,  and  let  her  there  be 
fed,  warmed,  and  undressed  at  once. 

There  was  something  in  the  quality  of  Susan's  voice 
to  which  people  listened,  and  the  present  necessity 
overcame  the  Countess's  desire  to  assert  the  dignity  of 
her  granddaughter,  so  she  marched  out  of  the  room 
attended  by  the  women,  while  the  Earl  and  his  sons 
were  only  too  glad  to  slink  away — there  is  no  other  word 
for  it,  their  relief  as  to  the  expected  visitor  having  been 
exchanged  for  consternation  of  another  description. 

There  was  a  blazing  fire  ready,  and  all  the  baby 
comforts  of  the  time  provided,  and  poor  little  Lady 
Arbell  was  relieved  from  her  swathing  bands,  and 
allowed  to  stretch  her  little  limbs  on  her  nurse's  lap, 
the  one  rest  really  precious  to  babes  of  all  periods  and 
conditions — but  the  troubles  were  not  yet  over,  for  the 
grandmother,  glancing  round,  demanded,  "  Where  is  the 
cradle  inlaid  with  pearl  ?  Why  was  it  not  provided  ? 
Bring  it  here." 

Now  this  cradle,  carved  in  cedar  wood  and  inlaid 
with  mother-of-pearl,  had  been  a  sponsor's  gift  to  poor 


X.]  THE  LADY  ARBELL.  123 

little  George,  the  first  male  heir  of  the  Talbots,  and  it 
was  regarded  as  a  special  treasure  by  his  mother,  who 
was  both  wounded  and  resentful  at  the  demand,  and 
stood  pouting  and  saying,  "  It  was  my  son's.  It  is 
mine." 

"  It  belongs  to  the  family.  You,"  to  two  of  the 
servants,  "  fetch  it  here  instantly !" 

The  ladies  of  Hardwicke  race  were  not  guarded  in 
temper  or  language,  and  Mary  burst  into  passionate 
tears  and  exclamations  that  Bess's  brat  should  not 
have  her  lost  George's  cradle,  and  flounced  away  to  get 
before  the  servants  and  lock  it  up.  Lady  Shrewsbury 
would  have  sprung  after  her,  and  have  made  no  scruple 
of  using  her  fists  and  nails  even  on  her  married 
daughter,  but  that  she  was  impeded  by  a  heavy  table, 
and  this  gave  time  for  Susan  to  throw  herself  before 
her,  and  entreat  her  to  pause. 

"  You,  you,  Susan  Talbot !  You  should  know  better 
than  to  take  the  part  of  an  undutiful,  foul-tongued 
vixen  like  that.  Out  of  my  way,  I  say !"  and  as 
Susan,  still  on  her  knees,  held  the  riding-dress,  she 
received  a  stinging  box  on  the  ear.  But  in  her  maiden 
days  she  had  known  the  weight  of  my  lady's  hand,  and 
without  relaxing  her  hold,  she  only  entreated :  "  Hear 
me,  hear  me  for  a  little  space,  my  lady.  Did  you  but 
know  how  sore  her  heart  is,  and  how  she  loved  little 
Master  George !" 

"  That  is  no  reason  she  should  flout  and  miscall 
her  dead  sister,  of  whom  she  was  always  jealous  !" 

"  0  madam,  she  wept  with  all  her  heart  for  poor 
Lady  Lennox.  It  is  not  any  evil,  but  she  sets  such 
store  by  that  cradle  in  which  her  child  died  —  she 
keeps  it  by  her  bed  even  now,  and  her  woman  told 
me  how,  for  all  she    seems   gay  and  blithe  by  day, 


124  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

she  weeps  over  it  at  night,  as  if  her  heart  would 
break." 

Lady  Shrewsbury  was  a  little  softened.  "  The 
child  died  in  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yea,  madam.  He  had  been  on  his  father's  knee, 
and  had  seemed  a  little  easier,  and  as  if  he  might 
sleep,  so  Sir  Gilbert  laid  him  down,  and  he  did  but 
stretch  himself  out,  shiver  all  over,  draw  a  long  breath, 
and  the  pretty  lamb  was  gone  to  Paradise !" 

"You  saw  him,  Susan  ?" 

"  Yea,  madam.  Dame  Mary  sent  for  me,  but  none 
could  be  of  any  aid  where  it  was  the  will  of  Heaven 
to  take  him." 

"  If  I  had  been  there,"  said  the  Countess,  "  I  who 
have  brought  up  eight  children  and  lost  none,  I  should 
have  saved  him  !  So  he  died  in  yonder  cedar  cradle  I 
Well,  e'en  let  Mary  keep  it.  It  may  be  that  there  is 
infection  in  the  smell  of  the  cedar  wood,  and  that  the 
child  will  sleep  better  out  of  it.  It  is  too  late  to  do 
aught  this  evening,  but  to-morrow  the  child  shall  be 
lodged  as  befits  her  birth,  in  the  presence  chamber." 

"Ah,  madam!"  said  Susan,  "would  it  be  well  for 
the  sweet  babe  if  her  Majesty's  messengers,  who  be  so 
often  at  the  castle,  were  to  report  her  so  lodged  ?" 

"  I  have  a  right  to  lodge  my  grandchild  where  and 
how  I  please  in  my  own  house." 

"  Yea,  madam,  that  is  most  true,  but  you  wot  how 
the  Queen  treats  all  who  may  have  any  claim  to  the 
throne  in  future  times  ;  and  were  it  reported  by  any  of 
the  spies  that  are  ever  about  us,  how  royal  honours 
were  paid  to  the  little  Lady  Arbell,  might  she  not  be 
taken  from  your  ladyship's  wardship,  and  bestowed  with 
those  who  would  not  show  her  such  loving  care  ?" 

The  Countess  would  not  show  whether  this  had 


X.]  THE  LADY  AEBELL.  12  5 

any  effect  on  her,  or  else  some  sound  made  by  the 
child  attracted  her.  It  was  a  puny  little  thing,  and 
she  had  a  true  grandmother's  affection  for  it,  apart 
from  her  absurd  pride  and  ambition,  so  that  she  was 
glad  to  hold  counsel  over  it  with  Susan,  who  had  done 
such  justice  to  her  training  as  to  be,  in  her  eyes,  a 
mother  who  had  sense  enough  not  to  let  her  children 
waste  and  die ;  a  rare  merit  in  those  days,  and  one 
that  Susan  could  not  disclaim,  though  she  knew  that 
it  did  not  properly  belong  to  her. 

Cis  had  stood  by  all  the  time  like  a  little  statue, 
for  no  one,  not  even  young  Lady  Talbot,  durst  sit 
down  uninvited  in  the  presence  of  Earl  or  Countess ; 
but  her  black  brows  were  bent,  her  gray  eyes  intent. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  as  they  went  home  on  their 
quiet  mules,  "  are  great  ladies  always  so  rudely  spoken 
to  one  another  ?" 

"  I  have  not  seen  many  great  ladies,  Cis,  and  my 
Lady  Countess  has  always  been  good  to  me." 

"  Antony  said  that  the  Scots  Queen  and  her  ladies 
never  storm  at  one  another  like  my  lady  and  her 
daughters." 

"  Open  words  do  not  always  go  deep,  Cis,"  said  the 
mother.  "  I  had  rather  know  and  hear  the  worst  at 
once."  And  then  her  heart  smote  her  as  she  recol- 
lected that  she  might  be  implying  censure  of  the  girl's 
true  mother,  as  well  as  defending  wrath  and  passion, 
and  she  added,  "  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  a  happy  thing 
to  learn  to  refrain  the  tongue." 


126  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE  XL 

QUEEN  MARY'S  PRESENCE   CHAMBER. 

The  storm  that  followed  on  the  instalment  of  the  Lady 
Arbell  at  Sheffield  was  the  precursor  of  many  more. 
Her  grandmother  did  sufficiently  awake  to  the  danger 
of  alarming  the  jealousy  of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  submit 
to  leave  her  in  the  ordinary  chambers  of  the  children 
of  the  house,  and  to  exact  no  extraordinary  marks  of 
respect  towards  the  unconscious  infant ;  but  there  was 
no  abatement  in  the  Countess's  firm  belief  that  an 
English -born,  English -bred  child,  would  have  more 
right  to  the  crown  than  any  "  foreign  princes,"  as  she 
contemptuously  termed  the  Scottish  Queen  and  her 
son. 

Moreover,  in  her  two  years'  intercourse  with  the- 
elder  Countess  of  Lennox,  who  was  a  gentle-tempered 
but  commonplace  woman,  she  had  adopted  to  the  full 
that  unfortunate  princess's  entire  belief  in  the  guilt  of 
Queen  Mary,  and  entertained  no  doubt  that  she  had 
been  the  murderer  of  Darnley.  Old  Lady  Lennox 
had  seen  no  real  evidence,  and  merely  believed  what 
she  was  told  by  her  lord,  whose  impeachment  of  Both- 
well  had  been  baffled  by  the  Queen  in  a  most 
suspicious  manner.  Conversations  with  this  lady  had 
entirely  changed  Lady  Shrewsbury  from  the  friendly 


xl]  queen  mary's  presence  chamber.  127 

hostess  of  her  illustrious  captive,  to  be  her  enemy  and 
persecutor,  partly  as  being  convinced  of  her  guilt, 
partly  as  regarding  her  as  an  obstacle  in  the  path  of 
little  Arbell  to  the  throne.  So  she  not  only  refused 
to  pay  her  respects  as  usual  to  "  that  murtheress,"  but 
she  insisted  that  her  husband  should  tighten  the  bonds 
of  restraint,  and  cut  off  all  indulgences. 

The  Countess  was  one  of  the  women  to  whom 
argument  and  reason  are  impossible,  and  who  was  en- 
tirely swayed  by  her  predilections,  as  well  as  of  so 
imperious  a  nature  as  to  brook  no  opposition,  and  to 
be  almost  always  able  to  sweep  every  one  along  with 
her. 

Her  own  sons  always  were  of  her  mind,  and  her 
daughters  might  fret  and  chafe,  but  were  sure  to  take 
part  with  her  against  every  one  else  outside  the  Caven- 
dish family.  The  idea  of  being  kinsfolk  to  the  future 
Queen  excited  them  all,  and  even  Mary  forgot  her 
offence  about  the  cradle,  and  her  jealousy  of  Bess,  and 
ranked  herself  against  her  stepfather,  influencing  her 
husband,  Gilbert,  on  whom  the  unfortunate  Earl  had 
hitherto  leant.  On  his  refusal  to  persecute  his  un- 
fortunate captive  beyond  the  orders  from  the  Court, 
Bess  of  Harclwicke,  emboldened  by  the  support  she 
had  gathered  from  her  children,  passionately  declared 
that  it  could  only  be  because  he  was  himself  in  love 
with  the  murtheress.  Lord  Shrewsbury  could  not 
help  laughing  a  little  at  the  absurdity  of  the  idea, 
whereupon  my  lady  rose  up  in  virtuous  indignation, 
calling  her  sons  and  daughters  to  follow  her. 

All  that  night,  lights  might  have  been  seen  flitting 
about  at  the  Manor-house,  and  early  in  the  morning 
bugles  sounded  to  horse.  A  huge  procession,  consist- 
ing  of  the   Countess  herself,   and   all   her    sons   and 


128  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

daughters  then  at  Sheffield,  little  Lady  Arbell,  and 
the  whole  of  their  attendants,  swept  out  of  the  gates 
of  the  park  on  the  way  to  Hardwicke.  When  Eichard 
Talbot  went  up  to  fulfil  his  duties  as  gentleman  porter 
at  the  lodge  the  courts  seemed  well-nigh  deserted,  and 
a  messenger  summoned  him  at  once  to  the  Earl,  whom 
he  found  in  his  bed-chamber  in  his  morning  gown 
terribly  perturbed. 

"For  Heaven's  sake  send  for  your  wife,  Eichard 
Talbot !"  he  said.  "  It  is  her  Majesty's  charge  that 
some  of  mine  household,  or  I  myself,  see  this  unhappy 
Queen  of  Scots  each  day  for  not  less  than  two  hours, 
as  you  well  know.  My  lady  has  broken  away,  and 
all  her  daughters,  on  this  accursed  fancy — yea,  and 
Gilbert  too,  Gilbert  whom  I  always  looked  to  to  stand 
by  me  ;  I  have  no  one  to  send.  If  I  go  and  attend  upon 
her  alone,  as  I  have  done  a  thousand  times  to  my 
sorrow,  it  will  but  give  colour  to  the  monstrous  tale ; 
but  if  your  good  wife,  an  honourable  lady  of  the 
Hardwicke  kin,  against  whom  none  ever  breathed  a 
word,  will  go  and  give  the  daily  attendance,  then  can 
not  the  Queen  herself  find  fault,  and  my  wife's  heated 
fancy  can  coin  nothing  suspicious.  You  must  all  come 
up,  and  lodge  here  in  the  Manor-house  till  this  tempest 
be  overpast.  Oh,  Eichard,  Eichard !  will  it  last  out 
my  life  ?  My  very  children  are  turned  against  me. 
Go  you  down  and  fetch  your  good  Susan,  and  take 
order  for  bringing  up  your  children  and  gear.  Ben- 
thall  shall  take  your  turn  at  the  lodge.  What  are  you 
tarrying  for  ?  Do  you  doubt  whether  your  wife  have 
rank  enough  to  wait  on  the  Queen  ?  She  should  have 
been  a  knight's  lady  long  ago,  but  that  I  deemed  you 
would  be  glad  to  be  quit  of  herald's  fees ;  your  service 
and  estate  have  merited  it,  and  I  will  crave  license  by 


xi.]  queen  mary's  presence  chamber.  129 

to-day's  courier  from  her  Majesty  to  lay  knighthood 
on  your  shoulder." 

"  That  was  not  what  I  thought  of,  my  Lord,  though 
I  humbly  thank  you,  and  would  be  whatever  was  best 
for  your  Lordship's  service,  though,  if  it  would  serve 
you  as  well,  I  would  rather  be  squire  than  knight ; 
but  I  was  bethinking  me  how  we  should  bestow  our 
small  family.  We  have  a  young  damsel  at  an  age  not 
to  be  left  to  herself." 

"  The  black -browed  maid — I  recollect  her.  Let 
her  e'en  follow  her  mother.  Queen  Mary  likes  a  young 
face,  and  is  kindly  disposed  to  little  maids.  She 
taught  Bess  Pierrepoint  to  speak  French  and  work 
with  her  needle,  and  I  cannot  see  that  she  did  the  lass 
any  harm,  nay,  she  is  the  only  one  of  them  all  that 
can  rule  her  tongue  to  give  a  soft  answer  if  things 
go  not  after  her  will,  and  a  maid  mi^ht  learn  worse 
things.  Besides,  your  wife  will  be  there  to  look 
after  the  maiden,  so  you  need  have  no  fears.  And 
for  your  sons,  they  will  be  at  school,  and  can  eat 
with  us." 

Richard's  doubts  being  thus  silenced  he  could  not 
but  bring  his  wife  to  his  lord's  rescue,  though  he  well 
knew  that  Susan  would  be  greatly  disturbed  on  all 
accounts,  and  indeed  he  found  her  deep  in  the  ironing 
that  followed  the  great  spring  wash,  and  her  housewifely 
mind  was  as  much  exercised  as  to  the  effects  of  her 
desertion,  as  was  her  maternal  prudence  at  the  plunge 
which  her  unconscious  adopted  child  was  about  to 
make.  However,  there  was  no  denying  the  request, 
backed  as  it  was  by  her  husband,  looking  at  her 
proudly,  and  declaring  she  was  by  general  consent 
the  only  discreet  woman  in  Sheffield.  She  was  very 
sorry  for  the  Earl's  perplexity,  and  had  a  loyal  pity 

vol.  I.  K 


130  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

for  the  Countess's  vexation  and  folly,  and  she  was 
consoled  by  the  assurance  that  she  would  have  a  free 
time  between  dinner  and  supper  to  go  home  and 
attend  to  her  wash,  and  finish  her  preparations.  Cis, 
who  had  been  left  in  a  state  of  great  curiosity,  to 
continue  compounding  pickle  while  the  mother  was 
called  away,  was  summoned  to  don  her  holiday  kirtle, 
for  she  was  to  join  in  attendance  on  the  Queen  of 
Scots  while  Lady  Shrewsbury  and  her  daughters  were 
absent. 

It  was  unmixed  delight  to  the  girl,  and  she  was  not 
long  in  fresh-binding  up  her  hair — black  with  a  little 
rust-coloured  tinge — under  her  stiff  little  cap,  smooth- 
ing down  the  front,  which  was  alone  visible,  putting 
on  the  well-stiffened  ruff  with  the  dainty  little  lace 
edge  and  close-fitting  tucker,  and  then  the  gray  home- 
spun kirtle,  with  the  puffs  at  the  top  of  the  tight 
sleeves,  and  the  slashes  into  which  she  had  persuaded 
mother  to  insert  some  old  pink  satin,  for  was  not  she 
sixteen  now,  and  almost  a  woman  ?  There  was  a  pink 
breast-knot  to  match,  and  Humfrey's  owch  just  above  it, 
gray  stockings,  home -spun  and  worked  with  elaborate 
pink  clocks,  but  knitted  by  Cis  herself;  and  a  pair  of 
shoes  with  pink  roses  to  match  were  put  into  a  bag,  to 
be  assumed  when  she  arrived  at  the  lodge.  Out  of 
this  simple  finery  beamed  a  face,  bright  in  spite  of  the 
straight,  almost  bushy,  black  brows.  There  was  a  light 
of  youth,  joy,  and  intelligence,  about  her  gray  eyes 
which  made  them  sparkle  all  the  more  under  their 
dark  setting,  and  though  her  complexion  had  no 
brilliancy,  only  the  clearness  of  health,  and  her 
features  would  not  endure  criticism,  there  was  a 
wonderful  lively  sweetness  about  her  fresh,  innocent 
young  mouth ;    and  she  had  a  tall  lithe  figure,  sur- 


xi.]  queen  mary's  presence  chamber.  131 

passing  that  of  her  stepmother.  She  would  have  been 
a  sonsie  Border  lass  in  appearance  but  for  the  remark- 
able carriage  of  her  small  head  and  shoulders,  which 
was  assuredly  derived  from  her  royal  ancestry,  and 
indeed  her  air  and  manner  of  walking  were  such  that 
Diccon  had  more  than  once  accused  her  of  sailing 
about  ambling  like  the  Queen  of  Scots,  an  accusation 
which  she  hotly  denied.  Her  hands  had  likewise  a 
slender  form  and  fine  texture,  such  as  none  of  the 
ladies  of  the  houses  of  Talbot  or  Hardwicke  could 
rival,  but  she  was  on  the  whole  viewed  as  far  from 
being  a  beauty.  The  taste  of  the  day  was  altogether 
for  light,  sandy-haired,  small -featured  women,  like 
Queen  Elizabeth  or  her  namesake  of  Hardwicke,  so  that 
Cis  was  looked  on  as  a  sort  of  crow,  and  her  supposed 
parents  were  pitied  for  having  so  ill-favoured  a 
daughter,  so  unlike  all  their  families,  except  one  black  - 
a-vised  Talbot  grandmother,  whose  portrait  had  been 
discovered  on  a  pedigree. 

Much  did  Susan  marvel  what  impression  the 
daughter  would  make  on  the  true  mother  as  they 
jogged  up  on  their  sober  ponies  through  the  long 
avenues,  whose  branches  were  beginning  to  wear  the 
purple  shades  of  coming  spring. 

Lord  Shrewsbury  himself  met  them  in  front  of  the 
lodge,  where,  in  spite  of  all  his  dignity,  he  had 
evidently  been  impatiently  awaiting  them.  He 
thanked  Susan  for  coming,  as  if  he  had  not  had  a 
right  to  order,  gave  her  his  ungloved  hand  when  she 
had  dismounted,  then  at  the  single  doorway  of  the 
lodge  caused  his  gentleman  to  go  through  the  form  of 
requesting  admission  for  himself  and  Mistress  Talbot, 
his  dear  kinswoman,  to  the  presence  of  the  Queen.  It 
was  a  ceremony  daily  observed  as  an  acknowledgment 


132  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

of  Mary's  royalty,  and  the  Earl  was  far  too  courteous 
ever  to  omit  it. 

Queen  Mary's  willingness  to  admit  him  was  notified 
by  Sir  Andrew  Melville,  a  tall,  worn  man,  with  the 
typical  Scottish  countenance  and  a  keen  steadfast  gray 
eye.  He  marshalled  the  trio  up  a  circular  staircase, 
made  as  easy  as  possible,  but  necessarily  narrow,  since 
it  wound  up  through  a  brick  turret  at  the  corner,  to 
the  third  and  uppermost  story  of  the  lodge. 

There,  however,  was  a  very  handsome  anteroom, 
with  tapestry  hangings,  a  richly  moulded  ceiling,  and 
wide  carved  stone  chimneypiece,  where  a  bright  fire  was 
burning,  around  which  sat  several  Scottish  and  French 
gentlemen,  who  rose  at  the  Earl's  entrance.  Another 
wide  doorway  with  a  tapestry  curtain  over  the  folding 
leaves  led  to  the  presence  chamber,  and  Sir  Andrew 
announced  in  as  full  style  as  if  he  had  been  marshal- 
ling an  English  ambassador  to  the  Court  of  Holyrood, 
the  most  high  arid  mighty  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  The 
room  was  full  of  March  sunshine,  and  a  great  wood 
fire  blazed  on  the  hearth.  Part  of  the  floor  was 
carpeted,  and  overhung  with  a  canopy,  proceeding  from 
the  tapestried  wall,  and  here  was  a  cross-legged  velvet 
chair  on  which  sat  Queen  Mary.  This  was  all  that 
Cis  saw  at  first,  while  the  Earl  advanced,  knelt  on 
one  step  of  the  dais,  with  bared  head,  exchanging 
greetings  with  the  Queen.  He  then  added,  that  his 
wife,  the  Countess,  and  her  daughter,  having  been 
called  away  from  Sheffield,  he  would  entreat  her 
Grace  to  accept  for  a  few  days  in  their  stead  the 
attendance  of  his  good  kinswoman,  Mrs.  Talbot,  and 
her  daughter,  Mistress  Cicely. 

Mary  graciously  intimated  her  consent,  and  extended 
her  hand  for  each  to  kiss  as  they  knelt  in  turn  on  the 


XI.]  QUEEN  MARY'S  PRESENCE  CHAMBER.  133 

step ;  Susan  either  fancied,  or  really  saw  a  wonderful 
likeness  in  that  taper  hand  to  the  little  one  whose 
stitches  she  had  so  often  guided.  Cis,  on  her  part, 
felt  the  thrill  of  girlhood  in  the  actual  touch  of  the 
subject  of  her  dreams.  She  stood,  scarcely  hearing 
what  passed,  but  taking  in,  from  under  her  black  brows, 
all  the  surroundings,  and  recognising  the  persons  from 
her  former  glimpses,  and  from  Antony  Babington's 
descriptions.  The  presence  chamber  was  ample  for 
the  suite  of  the  Queen,  which  had  been  reduced  on 
every  fresh  suspicion.  There  was  in  it,  besides  the 
Queen's  four  ladies,  an  elderly  one,  with  a  close  black 
silk  hood — Jean  Kennedy,  or  Mrs.  Kennett  as  the 
English  called  her ;  another,  a  thin  slight  figure,  with  a 
worn  face,  as  if  a  great  sorrow  had  passed  over  her, 
making  her  look  older  than  her  mistress,  was  the 
Queen's  last  remaining  Mary,  otherwise  Mrs.  Seaton. 
The  gossip  of  Sheffield  had  not  failed  to  tell  how  the 
chamberlain,  Beatoun,  had  been  her  suitor,  and  she 
had  half  consented  to  accept  him  when  he  was  sent 
on  a  mission  to  France,  and  there  died.  The  dark- 
complexioned  bright-eyed  little  lady,  on  a  smaller  scale 
than  the  rest,  was  Marie  de  Courcelles,  who,  like  the 
two  others,  had  been  the  Queen's  companion  in  all 
her  adventures ;  and  the  fourth,  younger  and  prettier 
than  the  rest,  was  already  known  to  Cis  and  her  mother, 
since  she  was  the  Barbara  Mowbray  who  was  affianced 
to  Gilbert  Curll,  the  Queen's  Scottish  secretary,  recently 
taken  into  her  service.  Both  these  were  Protestants, 
and,  like  the  Bridgefield  family,  attended  service  in 
the  castle  chapel.  They  were  all  at  work,  as  was  like- 
wise their  royal  lady,  to  whom  the  girl,  with  the  youth- 
ful coyness  that  halts  in  the  fulfilment  of  its  dreams, 
did  not  at  first  raise  her  eyes,  having  first  taken  in  all 


134  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

the  ladies,  the  several  portions  of  one  great  coverlet 
which  they  were  all  embroidering  in  separate  pieces, 
and  the  gentleman  who  was  reading  aloud  to  them  from 
a  large  book  placed  on  a  desk  at  which  he  was  standing. 
When  she  did  look  up,  as  the  Queen  was  graciously 
requesting  her  mother  to  be  seated,  and  the  Earl  excusing 
himself  from  remaining  longer,  her  first  impression  was 
one  of  disappointment.  Either  the  Queen  of  Scots  was 
less  lovely  seen  leisurely  close  at  hand  than  Antony 
Babington  and  Cis's  own  fancy  had  painted  her,  or  the 
last  two  or  three  years  had  lessened  her  charms,  as  well 
they  might,  for  she  had  struggled  and  suffered  much 
in  the  interval,  had  undergone  many  bitter  disappoint- 
ments, and  had  besides  endured  much  from  rheu- 
matism every  winter,  indeed,  even  now  she  could  not 
ride,  and  could  only  go  out  in  a  carriage  in  the  park 
on  the  finest  days,  looking  forward  to  her  annual  visit 
to  Buxton  to  set  her  up  for  the  summer.  Her  face 
was  longer  and  more  pointed  than  in  former  days,  her 
complexion  had  faded,  or  perhaps  in  these  private 
moments  it  had  not  been  worth  while  to  enhance  it ; 
though  there  was  no  carelessness  in  the  general  attire, 
the  black  velvet  gown,  and  delicate  lace  of  the  cap, 
and  open  ruff  always  characteristic  of  her.  The  small 
curls  of  hair  at  her  temples  had  their  auburn  tint 
softened  by  far  more  white  than  suited  one  who  was 
only  just  over  forty,  but  the  delicate  pencilling  of  the 
eyebrows  was  as  marked  as  ever ;  and  the  eyes,  on 
whose  colour  no  one  ever  agreed,  melted  and  sparkled 
as  of  old.  Cis  had  heard  debates  as  to  their  hue,  and 
furtively  tried  to  form  her  own  opinion,  but  could  not 
decide  on  anything  but  that  they  had  a  dark  effect, 
and  a  wonderful  power  of  expression,  seeming  to  look 
at  every  one  at  once,  and  to  rebuke,  encourage,  plead, 


XI.]  QUEEN  MART'S  PRESENCE  CHAMBER.  135 

or  smile,  from  moment  to  moment.  The  slight  cast  in 
one  of  them  really  added  to  their  force  of  expression 
rather  than  detracted  from  their  beauty,  and  the  deli- 
cate lips  were  ready  to  second  the  glances  with 
wondrous  smiles.  Cis  had  not  felt  the  magic  of  her 
mere  presence  five  minutes  without  being  convinced 
that  Antony  Babington  was  right ;  the  Lord  Treasurer 
and  all  the  rest  utterly  wrong,  and  that  she  beheld 
the  most  innocent  and  persecuted  of  princesses. 

Meantime,  all  due  formalities  having  been  gone 
through,  Lord  Shrewsbury  bowed  himself  out  backwards 
with  a  dexterity  that  Cis  breathlessly  admired  in  one  so 
stately  and  so  stiff,  forgetting  that  he  had  daily  practice 
in  the  art.  Then  Queen  Mary  courteously  entreated  her 
visitors  to  be  seated,  near  herself,  asking  with  a  smile 
if  this  were  not  the  little  maiden  who  had  queened 
it  so  prettily  in  the  brake  some  few  years  since. 
Cis  blushed  and  drew  back  her  head  with  a  pretty 
gesture  of  dignified  shyness  as  Susan  made  answer  for 
her  that  she  was  the  same. 

"  I  should  have  known  it,"  said  the  Queen,  smiling, 
"  by  the  port  of  her  head  alone.  'Tis  strange,"  she  said, 
musing,  "  that  maiden  hath  the  bearing  of  head  and 
neck  that  I  have  never  seen  save  in  my  own  mother, 
the  saints  rest  her  soul,  and  in  her  sisters,  and  which 
we  always  held  to  be  their  inheritance  from  the  blood 
of  Charlemagne." 

"  Your  grace  does  her  too  much  honour,"  Susan 
contrived  to  say,  thankful  that  no  less  remote  resem- 
blance had  been  detected. 

"  It  was  a  sad  farce  when  they  tried  to  repeat  your 
pretty  comedy  with  the  chief  performer  omitted,"  pro- 
ceeded the  Queen,  directing  her  words  to  the  girl,  but 
the  mother  replied  for  her. 


136  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Your  Grace  will  pardon  me,  I  could  not  permit 
her  to  play  in  public,  before  all  the  menti  of  the  castle." 

"  Madame  is  a  discreet  and  prudent  mother,"  said 
the  Queen.  "  The  mistake  was  in  repeating  the  repre- 
sentation at  all,  not  in  abstaining  from  appearing  in 
it.  I  should  be  very  sorry  that  this  young  lady  should 
have  been  concerned  in  a  spectacle  a  la  comtesse" 

There  was  something  in  the  intonation  of  "this 
young  lady "  that  won  Cis's  heart  on  the  spot,  some- 
thing in  the  concluding  words  that  hurt  Susan's  faith- 
ful loyalty  towards  her  kinswoman,  in  spite  of  the 
compliment  to  herself.  However  Mary  did  not  pursue 
the  subject,  perceiving  with  ready  tact  that  it  was  dis- 
tasteful, and  proceeded  to  ask  Dame  Susan's  opinion 
of  her  work,  which  was  intended  as  a  gift  to  her  good 
aunt,  the  Abbess  of  Soissons.  How  strangely  the 
name  fell  upon  Susan's  ear.  It  was  a  pale  blue  satin 
coverlet,  worked  in  large  separate  squares,  innumerable 
shields  and  heraldic  devices  of  Lorraine,  Bourbon, 
France,  Scotland,  etc.,  round  the  border,  and  beautiful 
meandering  patterns  of  branches,  with  natural  flowers 
and  leaves  growing  from  them  covering  the  whole  with 
a  fascinating  regular  irregularity.  Cis  could  not  repress 
an  exclamation  of  delight,  which  brought  the  most 
charming  glance  of  the  winning  eyes  upon  her.  There 
was  stitchery  here  that  she  did  not  understand,  but 
when  she  looked  at  some  of  the  flowers,  she  could  not 
help  uttering  the  sentiment  that  the  eyes  of  the  daisies 
were  not  as  mother  could  make  them. 

So,  as  a  great  favour,  Queen  Mary  entreated  to  be 
shown  Mrs.  Talbot's  mode  of  dealing  with  the  eyes  of 
the  daisies.  No,  her  good  Seaton  would  not  learn  so 
well  as  she  should ;  Madame  must  come  and  sit  by 
her  and  show  her.     Meantime  here  was  her  poor  little 


XL]  QUEEN  MARY'S  PRESENCE  CHAMBER.  137 

Bijou  whimpering  to  be  taken  on  her  lap.  "Would  not 
he  find  a  comforter  in  sweet  Mistress  —  ah,  what  was 
her  name  ? 

"  We  named  her  Cicely,  so  please  your  Grace,"  said 
Susan,  unable  to  help  blushing. 

"  Cecile,  a  fair  name.  Ah  !  so  the  poor  Antoine 
called  her.  I  see  my  Bijou  has  found  a  friend  in  you, 
Mistress  Cecile" — as  the  girl's  idle  hands  were  only 
too  happy  to  caress  the  pretty  little  shivering  Italian 
greyhound  rather  than  to  be  busy  with  a  needle.  "  Do 
you  ever  hear  of  that  young  Babington,  your  play- 
fellow ?"  she  added. 

"  No,  madam,"  said  Cis,  looking  up,  "  he  hath  never 
been  here  !" 

"  I  thought  not,"  said  Queen  Mary,  sighing.  "  Take 
heed  to  manifest  no  pity  for  me,  maiden,  if  you  should 
ever  chance  to  be  inspired  with  it  for  a  poor  worn-out 
old  prisoner.  It  is  the  sure  sentence  of  misfortune  and 
banishment." 

"  In  his  sex,  madam,"  here  put  in  Marie  de  Cour- 
celles.      "  If  it  were  so  in  ours,  woe  to  some  of  us." 

"  That  is  true,  my  dear  friends,"  said  Mary,  her 
eyes  glistening  with  dew.  "  It  is  the  women  who  are 
the  most  fearless,  the  most  faithful,  and  whom  the  saints 
therefore  shield." 

"  Alas,  there  are  some  who  are  faithful  but  who  are 
not  shielded !" 

It  was  merely  a  soft  low  murmur,  but  the  tender- 
hearted Queen  had  caught  it,  and  rising  impulsively, 
crossed  the  room  and  gathered  Mary  Seaton's  hands 
into  hers,  no  longer  the  queen  but  the  loving  friend  of 
equal  years,  soothing  her  in  a  low  fond  voice,  and  pre- 
sently sending  her  to  the  inner  chamber  to  compose 
herself.     Then  as  the  Queen  returned  slowly  to  her 


138  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

seat  it  would  be  seen  how  lame  she  was  from  rheuma- 
tism. Mrs.  Kennedy  hurried  to  assist  her,  with  a 
nurse-like  word  of  remonstrance,  to  which  she  replied 
with  a  bewitching  look  of  sweetness  that  she  could  not 
but  forget  her  aches  and  pains  when  she  saw  her- dear 
Mary  Seaton  in  trouble. 

Most  politely  she  then  asked  whether  her  visitors 
would  object  to  listening  to  the  conclusion  of  her  day's 
portion  of  reading.  There  was  no  refusing,  of  course, 
though,  as  Susan  glanced  at  the  reader  and  knew  him 
to  be  strongly  suspected  of  being  in  Holy  Orders  con- 
ferred abroad,  she  had  her  fears  for  her  child's  Protestant 
principles.  The  book,  however,  proved  to  be  a  trans- 
lation of  St.  Austin  on  the  Psalms,  and,  of  course,  she 
could  detect  nothing  that  she  disapproved,  even  if 
Cis  had  not  been  far  too  much  absorbed  by  the  little 
dog  and  its  mistress  to  have  any  comprehending  ears 
for  theology.  Queen  Mary  confidentially  observed  as 
much  to  her  after  the  reading,  having,  no  doubt,  de- 
tected her  uneasy  glance. 

"  You  need  not  fear  for  your  child,  madam,"  she 
said ;  "  St.  Augustine  is  respected  by  your  own  Queen 
and  her  Bishops.  At  the  readings  with  which  my  good 
Mr.  Belton  favours  me,  I  take  care  to  have  nothing  you 
Protestants  dispute  when  I  know  it."  She  added, 
smiling,  "  Heaven  knows  that  I  have  endeavoured  to 
understand  your  faith,  and  many  a  minister  has  argued 
with  me.  I  have  done  my  best  to  comprehend  them,  but 
they  agreed  in  nothing  but  in  their  abuse  of  the  Pope. 
At  least  so  it  seemed  to  my  poor  weak  mind.  But 
you  are  satisfied,  madam,  I  see  it  in  your  calm  eyes 
and  gentle  voice.  If  I  see  much  of  you,  I  shall  learn 
to  think  well  of  your  religion." 

Susan  made  an  obeisance  without  answering.     She 


XI.]  QUEEN  MARY'S  PRESENCE  CHAMBER.  139 

had  heard  Sir  Gilbert  Talbot  say,  "  If  she  tries  to  per- 
suade you  that  you  can  convert  her,  be  sure  that  she 
means  mischief,"  but  she  could  not  bear  to  believe  it 
anything  but  a  libel  while  the  sweet  sad  face  was  gazing 
into  hers. 

Queen  Mary  changed  the  subject  by  asking  a  few 
questions  about  the  Countess's  sudden  departure.  There 
was  a  sort  of  guarded  irony  suppressed  in  her  tone — she 
was  evidently  feeling  her  way  with  the  stranger,  and 
when  she  found  that  Susan  would  only  own  to  causes 
Lord  Shrewsbury  had  adduced  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  she  was  much  too  wary  to  continue  the 
examination,  though  Susan  could  not  help  thinking 
that  she  knew  full  well  the  disturbance  which  had 
taken  place. 

A  short  walk  on  the  roof  above  followed.  The  sun 
was  shining  brilliantly,  and  lame  as  she  was,  the  Queen's 
strong  craving  for  free  air  led  her  to  climb  her  stairs 
and  creep  to  and  fro  on  Sir  Andrew  Melville's  arm, 
gazing  out  over  the  noble  prospect  of  the  park  close 
below,  divided  by  the  winding  vales  of  the  three  rivers, 
which  could  be  traced  up  into  the  woods  and  the  moors 
beyond,  purple  with  spring  freshness  and  glory.  Mary 
made  her  visitors  point  out  Bridgefield,  and  asked 
questions  about  all  that  could  be  seen  of  the  house 
and  pleasance,  which,  in  truth,  was  little  enough, 
but  she  contrived  to  set  Cis  off  into  a  girl's  chatter 
about  her  home  occupations,  and  would  not  let  her  be 
hushed. 

"  You  little  know  the  good  it  does  a  captive  to  take 
part,  only  in  fancy,  in  a  free  harmless  life,"  returned 
Mary,  with  the  wistful  look  that  made  her  eyes  so 
pathetic.  "  There  is  no  refreshment  to  me  like  a  child's 
prattle." 


140  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Susan's  heart  smote  her  as  she  thought  of  the  true 
relations  in  which  these  two  stood  to  one  another,  and 
she  forbore  from  further  interference ;  but  she  greatly 
rejoiced  when  the  great  bell  of  the  castle  gave  notice 
of  noon,  and  of  her  own  release.  When  Queen  Mary's 
dinner  was  served,  the  Talbot  ladies  in  attendance  left 
her  and  repaired  to  the  general  family  meal  in  the 
hall. 


XII.]  A  FURIOUS  LETTER.  141 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

A    FURIOUS    LETTER. 

A  period  now  began  of  daily  penance  to  Mrs.  Talbot, 
of  daily  excitement  and  delight  to  Cis.  Two  hours  or 
more  had  to  be  spent  in  attendance  on  Queen  Mary. 
Even  on  Sundays  there  was  no  exemption,  the  visit 
only  took  place  later  in  the  day,  so  as  not  to  interfere 
with  going  to  church. 

Nothing  could  be  more  courteous  or  more  friendly 
than  the  manner  in  which  the  elder  lady  was  always 
received.  She  was  always  made  welcome  by  the 
Queen  herself,  who  generally  entered  into  conversation 
with  her  almost  as  with  an  equal.  Or  when  Mary 
herself  was  engaged  in  her  privy  chamber  in  dictating 
to  her  secretaries,  the  ladies  Of  the  suite  showed  them- 
selves equally  friendly,  and  told  her  of  their  mistress's 
satisfaction  in  having  a  companion  free  from  all  the 
rude  and  unaccountable  humours  and  caprices  of  my 
Lady  Countess  and  her  daughters.  And  if  Susan  was 
favoured,  Cis  was  petted.  Queen  Mary  always  liked  to 
have  young  girls  about  her.  Their  fresh,  spontaneous, 
enthusiastic  homage  was  pleasant  to  one  who  loved 
above  all  to  attract,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  a  prisoner 
to  have  a  fresh  face  about  her. 

Was  it  only  this,  or  was  it  the  maternal  instinct 


142  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

that  made  her  face  light  up  when  the  young  girl 
entered  the  room  and  return  the  shy  reverential  kiss 
of  the  hand  with  a  tender  kiss  on  the  forehead,  that 
made  her  encourage  the  chatter,  give  little  touches  to 
the  deportment,  and  present  little  keepsakes,  which  in- 
creased in  value  till  Sir  Eichard  began  to  look  grave, 
and  to  say  there  must  be  no  more  jewels  of  price 
brought  from  the  lodge  ?  And  as  his  wife  uttered  a 
word  that  sounded  like  remonstrance,  he  added,  "  Not 
while  she  passes  for  my  daughter." 

Cis,  who  had  begun  by  putting  on  a  pouting  face, 
burst  into  tears.  Her  adopted  parents  had  always 
been  more  tolerant  and  indulgent  to  her  than  if  she 
had  been  a  child  over  whom  they  felt  entire  rights, 
and  instead  of  rewarding  her  petulance  with  such  a 
blow  as  would  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of  a  veritable 
Talbot,  Eichard  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left  the 
room — the  chamber  which  had  been  allotted  to  Dame 
Susan  at  the  Manor-house,  while  Susan  endeavoured 
to  cheer  the  girl  by  telling  her  not  to  grieve,  for  her 
father  was  not  angry  with  her. 

"  Why — why  may  not  the  dear  good  Queen  give  me 
her  dainty  gifts  ? "  sobbed  Cis. 

"  See,  dear  child,"  said  Susan,  "  while  she  only  gave 
thee  an  orange  stuck  with  cloves,  or  an  embroidery 
needle,  or  even  a  puppy  dog,  it  is  all  very  well ;  but 
when  it  comes  to  Spanish  gloves  and  coral  clasps,  the 
next  time  there  is  an  outcry  about  a  plot,  some  evil- 
disposed  person  would  be  sure  to  say  that  Master  Eichard 
Talbot  had  been  taking  bribes  through  his  daughter." 

"  It  would  be  vilely  false  ! "  cried  Cis  with  flashing 
eyes. 

"  It  would  not  be  the  less  believed,"  said  Susan. 
"  My  Lord  would  say  we  had  betrayed  our  trust,  and 


XII.]  A  FURIOUS  LETTER.  143 

there  never  has  been  one  stain  on  my  husband's 
honour." 

"  You  are  wroth  with  me  too,  mother ! "  said  Cis. 

"  Not  if  you  are  a  good  child,  and  guard  the  honour 
of  the  name  you  bear." 

"  I  will,  I  will ! "  said  Cis.  "  Never  will  I  take 
another  gift  from  the   Queen  if  only  you  and  he  will 

call  me  your  child,  and  be — good  to  me "    The  rest 

was  lost  in  tears  and  in  the  tender  caresses  that  Susan 
lavished  on  her ;  all  the  more  as  she  caught  the 
broken  words,  "  Humfrey,  too,  he  would  never  forgive 
me." 

Susan  told  her  husband  what  had  passed,  adding, 
"  She  will  keep  her  word." 

"  She  must,  or  she  shall  go  no  more  to  the  lodge," 
he  said. 

"  You  would  not  have  doubted  had  you  seen  her 
eye  flash  at  the  thought  of  bringing  your  honour  into 
question.     There  spoke  her  kingly  blood." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see,"  sighed  Eichard,  "  if  it  be 
blood  that  makes  the  nature.  I  fear  me  hers  is  but 
that  of  a  Scottish  thief  !  Scorn  not  warning,  mother, 
but  watch  thy  stranger  nestling  well." 

"  Nay,  mine  husband.  While  we  own  her  as  our 
child,  she  will  do  anything  to  be  one  with  us.  It  is 
when  we  seem  to  put  her  from  us  that  we  wound  her 
so  that  I  know  not  what  she  might  do,  fondled  as  she 
is — by — by  her  who — has  the  best  right  to  the  dear 
child." 

Eichard  uttered  a  certain  exclamation  of  disgust 
which  silenced  his  discreet  wife. 

Neither  of  them  had  quite  anticipated  the  result, 
namely,  that  the  next  morning,  Cis,  after  kissing  the 
Queen's  hand  as  usual,  remained  kneeling,  her  bosom 


144  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

heaving,  and  a  little  stammering  on  her  tongue,  while 
tears  rose  to  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  it,  mignonne,"  said  Mary,  kindly  ;  "  is  the 
whelp  dead  ?  or  is  the  clasp  broken  ? " 

"  No,  madam ;  but — but  I  pray  you  give  me  no 
more  gifts.  My  father  says  it  touches  his  honour,  and 
I  have  promised  him — Oh,  madam,  be  not  displeased 
with  me,  but  let  me  give  you  back  your  last  beauteous 

.gift." 

Mary  was  standing  by  the  fire.  She  took  the 
ivory  and  coral  trinket  from  the  hand  of  the  kneeling 
girl,  and  dashed  it  into  the  hottest  glow.  There  was 
passion  in  the  action,  and  in  the  kindling  eye,  but  it 
was  but  for  a  moment.  Before  Cis  could  speak  or 
Susan  begin  her  excuses,  the  delicate  hand  was  laid  on 
the  girl's  head,  and  a  calm  voice  said,  "  Fear  not,  child. 
Queens  take  not  back  their  gifts.  I  ought  to  have 
borne  in  mind  that  I  am  balked  of  the  pleasure  of 
giving — the  best  of  all  the  joys  they  have  robbed  me 
of.  But  tremble  not,  sweetheart,  I  am  not  chafed 
with  thee.  I  will  vex  thy  father  no  more.  Better 
thou  shouldst  go  without  a  trinket  or  two  than  deprive 
me  of  the  light  of  that  silly  little  face  of  thine,  so  long 
as  they  will  leave  me  that  sunbeam." 

She  stooped  and  kissed  the  drooping  brow,  and 
Susan  could  not  but  feel  as  if  the  voice  of  nature  were 
indeed  speaking. 

A  few  words  of  apology  in  her  character  of  mother 
for  the  maiden's  abrupt  proceeding  were  met  by  the 
Queen  most  graciously.  "  Spare  thy  words,  good 
madam.  We  understand  and  reverence  Mr.  Talbot's 
point  of  honour.  Would  that  all  who  approached  us 
had  held  his  scruples  ! " 

Perhaps    Mary   was  after  this  more  distant  and 


XII.]  A  FURIOUS  LETTER.  145 

dignified  towards  the  matron,  but  especially  tender 
and  caressing  towards  the  maiden,  as  if  to  make  up  by- 
kindness  for  the  absence  of  little  gifts. 

Storms,  however,  were  brewing  without.  Lady 
Shrewsbury  made  open  complaints  of  her  husband 
having  become  one  of  Mary's  many  victims,  represent- 
ing herself  as  an  injured  wife  driven  out  of  her  house. 
She  actually  in  her  rage  carried  the  complaint  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  who  sent  down  two  commissioners 
to  inquire  into  the  matter.  They  sat  in  the  castle 
hall,  and  examined  all  the  attendants,  including  Eichard 
and  his  wife.  The  investigation  was  extremely  painful 
and  distressing,  but  it  was  proved  that  nothing  could 
have  been  more  correct  and  guarded  than  the  whole 
intercourse  between  the  Earl  and  his  prisoner.  If  he 
had  erred,  it  had  been  on  the  side  of  caution  and 
severity,  though  he  had  always  preserved  the  courteous 
demeanour  of  a  gentleman,  and  had  been  rejoiced  to 
permit  whatever  indulgences  could  be  granted.  If 
there  had  been  any  transgressions  of  the  strict  rules, 
they  had  been  made  by  the  Countess  herself  and  her 
daughters  in  the  days  of  their  intimacy  with  the 
Queen  ;  and  the  aspersions  on  the  unfortunate  Earl 
were,  it  was  soon  evident,  merely  due  to  the  violent  and 
unscrupulous  tongues  of  the  Countess  and  her  daughter 
Mary.  No  wonder  that  Lord  Shrewsbury  wrote  letters 
in  which  he  termed  the  lady  "  his  wicked  and  malicious 
wife,"  and  expressed  his  conviction  that  his  son  Gilbert's 
mind  had  been  perverted  by  her  daughter. 

The  indignation  of  the  captive  Queen  was  fully 
equal  to  his,  as  one  after  another  of  her  little  court 
returned  and  was  made  to  detail  the  points  on  which 
he  or  she  had  been  interrogated.  Susan  found  her 
pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  like  a  caged  tigress,  her 

VOL.  I.  L 


146  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

cap  and  veil  thrown  back,  so  that  her  hair — far  whiter 
than  what  was  usually  displayed — was  hanging  di- 
shevelled, her  ruff  torn  open,  as  if  it  choked  back  the 
swelling  passion  in  her  throat. 

"  Never,  never  content  with  persecuting  me,  they 
must  insult  me  !  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  am  stripped 
of  my  crown,  deprived  of  my  friends  ;  that  I  cannot 
take  a  step  beyond  this  chamber,  queen  as  I  am,  with- 
out my  warder  ?  Must  they  attaint  me  as  a  woman  ? 
Oh,  why,  why  did  the  doom  spare  me  that  took  my 
little  brothers  ?  Why  did  I  live  to  be  the  most 
wretched,  not  of  sovereigns  alone,  but  of  women  ? " 

"  Madam,"  entreated  Marie  de  Courcelles,  "  dearest 
madam,  take  courage.  All  these  horrible  charges 
refute  themselves." 

"  Ah,  Marie  !  you  have  said  so  ten  thousand  times, 
and  what  charge  has  ever  been  dropped  ?" 

"This  one  is  dropped!"  exclaimed  Susan,  coming 
forward.  "  Yes,  your  Grace,  indeed  it  is  !  The  Com- 
missioner himself  told  my  husband  that  no  one  believed 
it  for  a  moment." 

"Then  why  should  these  men  have  been  sent  but 
to  sting  and  gall  me,  and  make  me  feel  that  I  am  in 
their  power  ?"  cried  the  Queen. 

"They  came,"  said  the  Secretary  Curll,  "because 
thus  alone  could  the  Countess  be  silenced." 

"  The  Countess  !"  exclaimed  Mary.  "  So  my  cousin 
hath  listened  to  her  tongue  !" 

"  Backed  by  her  daughter's,"  added  Jean  Kennedy. 

"  It  were  well  that  she  knew  what  those  two  dames 
can  say  of  her  Majesty  herself,  when  it  serves  them," 
added  Marie  de  Courcelles. 

"That  shall  she!"  exclaimed  Mary.  "She  shall 
have  it  from  mine  own  hand  !     Ha  !  ha  !     Elizabeth 


XII.]  A  FUKIOUS  LETTER.  147 

shall  know  the  choice  tales  wherewith  Mary  Talbot 
hath  regaled  us,  and  then  shall  she  judge  how  far  any- 
thing that  comes  from  my  young  lady  is  worth  heeding 
for  a  moment.  Remember  you  all  the  tales  of  the 
nips  and  the  pinches  ?  Ay,  and  of  all  the  endear- 
ments to  Leicester  and  to  Hatton  ?  She  shall  have  it 
all,  and  try  how  she  likes  the  dish  of  scandal  of  Mary 
Talbot's  cookery,  sauced  by  Bess  of  Hardwicke.  Here, 
nurse,  come  and  set  this  head-gear  of  mine  in  order, 
and  do  you,  my  good  Curll,  have  pen,  ink,  and  paper 
in  readiness  for  me." 

The  Queen  did  little  but  write  that  morning.  The 
next  day,  on  coming  out  from  morning  prayers,  which 
the  Protestants  of  her  suite  attended,  with  the  rest  of 
the  Shrewsbury  household,  Barbara  Mowbray  con- 
trived to  draw  Mrs.  Talbot  apart  as  they  went  towards 
the  lod^e. 

"  Madam,"  she  said,  "  they  all  talk  of  your  power  to 
persuade.  Xow  is  the  time  you  could  do  what  would 
be  no  small  service  to  this  poor  Queen,  ay,  and  it  may 
be  to  your  own  children." 

"  I  may  not  meddle  in  any  matters  of  the  Queen's," 
returned  Susan,  rather  stiffly. 

"  Xay,  but  hear  me,  madam.  It  is  only  to  hinder 
the  sending  of  a  letter." 

"  That  letter  which  her  Grace  was  about  to  write 
yesterday  ?" 

"  Even  so.  'Tis  no  secret,  for  she  read  fragments 
of  it  aloud,  and  all  her  women  applauded  it  with  all 
their  might,  and  laughed  over  the  stings  that  it  would 
give,  but  Mr.  Curll,  who  had  to  copy  it,  saith  that  there 
is  a  bitterness  in  it  that  can  do  nothing  but  make  her 
Majesty  of  England  the  more  inflamed,  not  only 
against  my  Lady  Shrewsbury,  but  against  her  who  writ 


148  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

the  letter,  and  all  concerned.  Why,  she  hath  even 
brought  in  the  comedy  that  your  children  acted  in  the 
woodland,  and  that  was  afterwards  repeated  in  the 
hall !" 

"  You  say  not  so,  Mistress  Barbara  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do.  Mr.  Curll  and  Sir  Andrew  Mel- 
ville are  both  of  them  sore  vexed,  and  would  fain 
have  her  withdraw  it ;  but  Master  Nau  and  all  the 
Trench  part  of  the  household  know  not  how  to  rejoice 
enough  at  such  an  exposure  of  my  Lady,  which  gives  a 
hard  fling  at  Queen  Elizabeth  at  the  same  time  !  Nay, 
I  cannot  but  tell  you  that  there  are  things  in  it  that 
Dame  Mary  Talbot  might  indeed  say,  but  I  know 
not  how  Queen  Mary  could  bring  herself  to  set 
down " 

Barbara  Mowbray  ventured  no  more,  and  Susan  felt 
hopeless  of  her  task,  since  how  was  she  by  any  means 
to  betray  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  the  letter  ?  Yet 
much  that  she  had  heard  made  her  feel  very  uneasy 
on  all  accounts.  She  had  too  much  strong  family 
regard  for  the  Countess  and  for  Gilbert  Talbot  and  his 
wife  to  hear  willingly  of  what  might  imperil  them, 
and  though  royal  indignation  would  probably  fly  over 
the  heads  of  the  children,  no  one  was  too  obscure  in 
those  Tudor  times  to  stand  in  danger  from  a  sovereign 
who  might  think  herself  insulted.  Yet  as  a  Hard- 
wicke,  and  the  wife  of  a  Talbot,  it  was  most  unlikely 
that  she  would  have  any  opening  for  remonstrance 
given  to  her. 

However,  it  was  possible  that  Curll  wished  to  give 
her  an  opening,  for  no  sooner  were  the  ladies  settled  at 
work  than  he  bowed  himself  forward  and  offered  his 
mistress  his  copy  of  the  letter. 

"  Is  it  fair  engrossed^  good  Curll  ? "   asked  Mary. 


xil]  a  furious  lettee.  149 

"Thanks.  Then  will  we  keep  your  copy,  and  you 
shall  fold  and  prepare  our  own  for  our  sealing." 

"Will  not  your  Majesty  hear  it  read  over  ere  it 
pass  out  of  your  hands  ?"  asked  Curll. 

"  Even  so,"  returned  Mary,  who  really  was  delighted 
with  the  pungency  of  her  own  composition.  "  Mayhap 
we  may  have  a  point  or  two  to  add." 

After  what  Mistress  Barbara  had  said,  Susan  was 
on  thorns  that  Cis  should  hear  the  letter;  but  that 
good  young  lady,  hating  the  expressions  therein  her- 
self, and  hating  it  still  more  for  the  girl,  bethought  her 
of  asking  permission  to  take  Mistress  Cicely  to  her 
own  chamber,  there  to  assist  her  in  the  folding  of  some 
of  her  laces,  and  Mary  consented.  It  was  well,  for 
there  was  much  that  made  the  English-bred  Susan's 
cheeks  glow  and  her  ears  tingle. 

But,  at  least,  it  gave  her  a  great  opportunity. 
When  the  letter  was  finished,  she  advanced  and  knelt 
on  the  step  of  the  canopied  chair,  saying,  "Madam, 
pardon  me,  if  in  the  name  of  my  unfortunate  children, 
I  entreat  you  not  to  accuse  them  to  the  Queen." 

"  Your  children,  lady !  How  have  I  included  them 
in  what  I  have  told  her  Majesty  of  our  sweet 
Countess?" 

"  Your  Grace  will  remember  that  the  foremost  parts 
in  yonder  farce  were  allotted  to  my  son  Humfrey  and 
to  young  Master  Babington.  Nay,  that  the  whole 
arose  from  the  woodland  sport  of  little  Cis,  which  your 
Grace  was  pleased  to  admire." 

"  Sooth  enough,  my  good  gossip,  but  none  could 
suspect  the  poor  children  of  the  malice  my  Lady 
Countess  contrived  to  put  into  the  matter." 

"Ah,  madam  !  these  are  times  when  it  is  convenient  to 
shift  the  blame  on  one  who  can  be  securely  punished." 


150  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

*  Certes,"  said  Mary,  thoughtfully,  "  the  Countess  is 
capable  of  making  her  escape  by  denouncing  some  one 
else,  especially  those  within  her  own  reach." 

"  Your  Grace,  who  can  speak  such  truth  of  my  poor 
Lady,"  said  Susan,  "  will  also  remember  that  though  my 
Lord  did  yield  to  the  persuasions  of  the  young  ladies, 
he  so  needfully  caused  Master  Sniggius  to  omit  all 
perilous  matter,  that  no  one  not  informed  would  have 
guessed  at  the  import  of  the  piece,  as  it  was  played  in 
the  hall." 

"  Most  assuredly  not,"  said  Mary,  laughing  a  little 
at  the  recollection.  "  It  might  have  been  played  in 
Westminster  Hall  without  putting  my  gracious  cousin, 
ay,  or  Leicester  and  Hatton  themselves,  to  the  blush." 

"  Thus,  if  the  Queen  should  take  the  matter  up  and 
trace  it  home,  it  could  not  but  be  brought  to  my  poor 
innocent  children !  Humfrey  is  for  the  nonce  out  of 
reach,  but  the  maiden — I  wis  verily  that  your  High- 
ness would  be  loath  to  do  her  any  hurt !" 

"Thou  art  a  good  pleader,  madam,"  said  the 
queen.  "  Verily  I  should  not  like  to  bring  the  bonnie 
lassie  into  trouble.  It  will  give  Master  Curll  a  little 
more  toil,  ay  and  myself  likewise,  for  the  matter  must 
stand  in  mine  own  hand  ;  but  we  will  leave  out  yonder 
unlucky  farce." 

"  Your  Highness  is  very  good,"  said  Susan  earnestly. 

"Yet  you  look  not  yet  content,  my  good  lady. 
What  more  would  you  have  of  me  ?" 

"  What  your  Majesty  will  scarce  grant,"  said  Susan. 

"  Ha  !  thou  art  of  the  same  house  thyself.  I  had 
forgotten  it ;  thou  art  so  unlike  to  them.  I  wager  that 
it  is  not  to  send  this  same  letter  at  all." 

"Your  Highness  hath  guessed  my  mind.  Nay, 
madam,  though  assuredly  I  do  desire  it  because  the 


XII.]  A  FURIOUS  LETTER.  151 

Countess  hath  "been  ever  my  good  lady,  and  hred  me 
up  ever  since  I  was  an  orphan,  it  is  not  solely  for  her 
sake  that  I  would  fain  pray  you,  hut  fully  as  much  for 
your  Majesty's  own." 

"  Madame  Talbot  sees  the  matter  as  I  do,"  said  Sir 
Andrew  Melville.  "The  English  Queen  is  as  like  to 
be  irate  with  the  reporter  of  the  scandal  as  with  the 
author  of  it,  even  as  the  wolf  bites  the  barb  that  pierces 
him  when  he  cannot  reach  the  archer." 

"  She  is  welcome  to  read  the  letter,"  said  Mary, 
smiling ;  "  thy  semblance  falleth  short,  my  good  friend." 

"  Xay,  madam,  that  was  not  the  whole  of  my  pur- 
port," said  Susan,  standing  with  folded  hands,  looking 
from  one  to  another.  "  Pardon  me.  My  thought  was 
that  to  take  part  in  all  this  repeating  of  thoughtless, 
idle  words,  spoken  foolishly  indeed,  but  scarce  so  much 
in  malice  as  to  amuse  your  Grace  with  Court  news, 
and  treasured  up  so  long,  your  Majesty  descends  from 
being  the  patient  and  suffering  princess,  meek,  generous, 
and  uncomplaining,  to  be — to  be " 

"  Xo  better  than  one  of  them,  wouldst  thou  add  ? " 
asked  Mary,  somewhat  sharply,  as  Susan  paused. 

"  Your  Highness  has  said  it,"  answered  Susan ; 
then,  as  there  was  a  moment's  pause,  she  looked  up, 
and  with  clasped  hands  added,  "  Oh,  madam  !  would 
it  not  be  more  worthy,  more  noble,  more  queenly,  more 
Christian,  to  refrain  from  stinging  with  this  repetition 
of  these  vain  and  f oolish  slanders  ? " 

"  Most  Christian  treatment  have  I  met  with,"  re- 
turned Mary ;  but  after  a  pause  she  turned  to  her 
almoner,  Master  Belton,  sayiDg,  "  What  say  you,  sir  ? " 

"  I  say  that  Mrs.  Talbot  speaks  more  Christian 
words  than  are  often  heard  in  these  parts,"  returned 
he.      "  The   thankworthiness   of   suffering   is   lost   by 


152  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAR 

those  who  return  the  revilings  upon  those  who  utter 
them." 

"  Then  he  it  so,"  returned  the  Queen.  "  Elizabeth 
shall  be  spared  the  knowledge  that  some  ladies'  tongues 
can  be  as  busy  with  her  as  with  her  poor  cousin." 

With  her  own  hands  Mary  tore  up  her  own  letter, 
but  Curll's  copy  unfortunately  escaped  destruction,  to 
be  discovered  in  after  times.  Lord  and  Lady  Shrews- 
bury never  knew  the  service  Susan  had  rendered  them 
by  causing  it  to  be  suppressed. 


XIII. ]  BEADS  AND  BRACELETS.  153 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

BEADS   AND   BEACELETS. 

The  Countess  was  by  no  means  pacified  by  the  inves- 
tigation, and  both  she  and  her  family  remained  at 
Court,  maligning  her  husband  and  his  captive.  As 
the  season  advanced,  bringing  the  time  for  the  Queen's 
annual  resort  to  the  waters  of  Buxton,  Lord  Shrews- 
bury was  obliged  to  entreat  Mrs.  Talbot  again  to  be 
her  companion,  declaring  that  he  had  never  known  so 
much  peace  as  with  that  lady  in  the  Queen's  chambers. 

The  journey  to  Buxton  was  always  the  great  holi- 
day of  the  imprisoned  Court.  The  place  was  part  of 
the  Shrewsbury  property,  and  the  Earl  had  a  great 
house  there,  but  there  were  no  conveniences  for  exer- 
cising so  strict  a  watch  as  at  Sheffield,  and  there  was 
altogether  a  relaxation  of  discipline.  Exercise  was 
considered  an  essential  part  of  the  treatment,  and 
recreations  were  there  provided. 

Cis  had  heard  so  much  of  the  charms  of  the  ex- 
pedition, that  she  was  enraptured  to  hear  that  she  was 
to  share  it,  together  with  Mrs.  Talbot.  The  only 
drawback  was  that  Humfrey  had  promised  to  come 
home  after  this  present  voyage,  to  see  whether  his 
little  Cis  were  ready  for  him ;  and  his  father  was  much 
disposed  to   remain   at  home,  receive   him   first,  and 


154  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

communicate  to  him  the  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
wedding  the  young  lady.  However,  my  Lord  refused 
to  dispense  with  the  attendance  of  his  most  trust- 
worthy kinsman,  and  leaving  Ned  at  school  under 
charge  of  the  learned  Sniggius,  the  elder  and  the 
younger  Eichard  Talbot  rode  forth  with  the  retinue 
of  the  Queen  and  her  warder. 

Neither  Cicely  nor  Diccon  had  ever  left  home  be- 
fore, and  they  were  in  raptures  which  would  have 
made  any  journey  delightful  to  them,  far  more  a  ride 
through  some  of  the  wildest  and  loveliest  glades  that 
England  can  display.  Nay,  it  may  be  that  they 
would  better  have  enjoyed  something  less  like  Shef- 
field Park  than  the  rocks,  glens,  and  woods,  through 
which  they  rode.  Their  real  delight  was  in  the  towns 
and  villages  at  which  there  was  a  halt,  and  every 
traveller  they  saw  was  such  a  wonder  to  them,  that  at 
the  end  of  the  first  day  they  were  almost  as  full  of 
exultation  in  their  experiences,  as  if,  with  Humfrey, 
they  had  been  far  on  the  way  to  America. 

The  delight  of  sleeping  at  Tideswell  was  in  their 
eyes  extreme,  though  the  hostel  was  so  crowded  that 
Cis  had  to  share  a  mattress  with  Mrs.  Talbot,  and 
Diccon  had  to  sleep  in  his  cloak  on  the  floor,  which  he 
persuaded  himself  was  high  preferment.  He  woke, 
however,  much  sooner  than  was  his  wont,  and  finding 
it  useless  to  try  to  fall  asleep  again,  he  made  his  way 
out  among  the  sleeping  figures  on  the  floor  and  hall, 
and  finding  the  fountain  in  the  midst  of  the  court, 
produced  his  soap  and  comb  from  his  pocket,  and 
made  his  morning  toilet  in  the  open  air  with  consider- 
able satisfaction  at  his  own  alertness.  Presently  there 
was  a  tap  at  the  window  above,  and  he  saw  Cicely 
making  signals  to  him  to  wait  for  her,  and  in  a  few 


xiil]  beads  and  bracelets.  155 

minutes  she  skipped  out  from  the  door  into  the  sun- 
light of  the  early  summer  morning. 

"  Xo  one  is  awake  yet/'  she  said.  "  Even  the  guard 
before  the  Queen's  door  is  fast  asleep.  I  only  heard 
a  wench  or  two  stirring.  We  can  have  a  run  in  the 
fields  and  gather  May  dew  before  any  one  is  afoot." 

"  'Tis  not  May,  'tis  June,"  said  matter-of-fact 
Diccon.  "  But  yonder  is  a  guard  at  the  yard  gate ; 
will  he  let  us  past  ?" 

"  See,  here's  a  little  wicket  into  a  garden  of  pot- 
herbs," said  Cis.  "No  doubt  we  can  get  out  that 
way,  and  it  will  brin^  us  the  sooner  into  the  fields. 
I  have  a  cake  in  my  wallet  that  mother  gave  me  for 
the  journey,  so  we  shall  not  fast.  How  sweet  the 
herbs  smell  in  the  dew — and  see  how  silvery  it  lies 
on  the  strawberry  leaves.  Ah !  thou  naughty  lad, 
think  not  whether  the  fruit  be  ripe.  Mayhap  we  shall 
find  some  wild  ones  beyond." 

The  gate  of  the  garden  was  likewise  guarded,  but 
by  a  yeoman  who  well  knew  the  young  Talbots,  and 
made  no  difficulty  about  letting  them  out  into  the 
broken  ground  beyond  the  garden,  sloping  up  into  a 
little  hill.  Up  bounded  the  boy  and  girl,  like  young 
mountaineers,  through  gorse  and  fern,  and  presently 
had  gained  a  sufficient  height  to  look  over  the  country, 
marking  the  valleys  whence  still  were  rising  "  fragrant 
clouds  of  dewy  steam  "  under  the  influence  of  the  sun- 
beams, gazing  up  at  the  purple  heights  of  the  Peak, 
where  a  few  lines  of  snow  still  lingered  in  the  crevices, 
trying  to  track  their  past  journey  from  their  own 
Sheffield,  and  with  still  more  interest  to  guess  which 
wooded  valley  before  them  contained  Buxton. 

"Have  you  lost  your  way,  my  pretty  mistress?" 
said  a  voice  close  to  them,  and  turning  round  hastily 


156  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

they  saw  a  peasant  woman  with  a  large  basket  on  her 
arm. 

"  No,"  said  Cicely  courteously,  "  we  have  only  come 
out  to  take  the  air  before  breakfast." 

"  I  crave  pardon,"  said  the  woman,  curtseying,  "the 
pretty  lady  belongs  to  the  great  folk  down  yonder. 
Would  she  look  at  my  poor  wares  ?  Here  are  beads 
and  trinkets  of  the  goodly  stones,  pins  and  collars, 
bracelets  and  eardrops,  white,  yellow,  and  purple,"  she 
said,  uncovering  her  basket,  where  were  arranged 
various  ornaments  made  of  Derbyshire  spar. 

"We  have  no  money,  good  woman,"  said  Cicely, 
rising  to  return,  vaguely  uncomfortable  at  the  woman's 
eye,  which  awoke  some  remembrance  of  Tibbott  the 
huckster,  and  the  troubles  connected  with  her. 

"  Yea,  but  if  my  young  mistress  would  only  bring 
me  in  to  the  Great  Lady  there,  I  know  she  would 
buy  of  me  my  beads  and  bracelets,  or  give  me  an  alms 
for  my  poor  children.  I  have  five  of  them,  good 
young  lady,  and  they  lie  naked  and  hungry  till  I  can 
sell  my  few  poor  wares,  and  the  yeomen  are  so  rough 
and  hard.  They  would  break  and  trample  every  poor 
bead  I  have  in  pieces  rather  than  even  let  my  Lord 
hear  of  them.  But  if  even  my  basket  could  be  carried 
in  and  shown,  and  if  the  good  Earl  heard  my  sad 
tale,  I  am  sure  he  would  give  license." 

"  He  never  does  ! "  said  Diccon,  roughly  ;  "  hold  off, 
woman,  do  not  hang  on  us,  or  I'll  get  thee  branded  for 
a  vagabond." 

The  woman  put  her  knuckles  into  her  eyes,  and 
wailed  out  that  it  was  all  for  her  poor  children,  and 
Cicely  reproved  him  for  his  roughness,  and  as  the 
woman  kept  close  behind  them,  wailing,  moaning,  and 
persuading,  the  boy  and   girl  were  wrought  upon  at 


XIII.]  BEADS  AND  BRACELETS.  157 

last  to  give  her  leave  to  wait  outside  the  gate  of  the 
inn  garden,  while  they  saw  whether  it  was  possible  to 
admit  her  or  her  basket. 

But  before  they  reached  the  gate,  they  saw  a  figure 
beyond  it,  scanning  the  hill  eagerly.  They  knew 
him  for  their  father  even  before  he  shouted  to  them, 
and,  as  they  approached,  his  voice  was  displeased : 
"  How  now,  children ;  what  manners  are  these  ? " 

"  We  have  only  been  on  the  hillside,  sweet  father," 
said  Cis,  "  Diccon  and  I  together.    We  thought  no  harm." 

"  This  is  not  Sheffield  Chace,  Cis,  and  thou  art 
no  more  a  child,  but  a  maiden  who  needs  to  be  dis- 
creet, above  all  in  these  times.  Whom  did  I  see 
following  you  ? " 

"  A  poor  woman,  whom  - —  Ha,  where  is  she  ?  " 
exclaimed  Cis,  suddenly  perceiving  that  the  woman 
seemed  to  have  vanished. 

"  A  troublesome  begging  woman  who  beset  us  with 
her  wares,"  said  Diccon,  "  and  would  give  us  no  peace, 
praying  that  we  would  get  them  carried  in  to  the  Queen 
and  her  ladies,  whining  about  her  children  till  she  made 
Cis  soft-hearted.      Where  can  she  have  hidden  herself  ? " 

The  man  who  was  stationed  as  sentry  at  the  gate 
said  he  had  seen  the  woman  come  over  the  brow  of 
the  hill  with  Master  Diccon  and  Mistress  Cicely,  but 
that  as  they  ran  forward  to  meet  Captain  Talbot  she 
had  disappeared  amid  the  rocks  and  brushwood. 

"  Poor  woman,  she  was  afraid  of  our  father,"  said 
Cicely ;  "  I  would  we  could  see  her  again." 

"  So  would  not  I,"  said  Richard.  "  It  looks  not  well, 
and  heed  me  well,  children,  there  must  be  no  more  of 
these  pranks,  nor  of  wandering  out  of  bounds,  or 
babbling  with  strangers.  Go  thou  in  to  thy  mother, 
Cis,  she  hath  been  in  much  trouble  for  thee." 


158  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Mistress  Susan  was  unusually  severe  with  the  girl 
on  the  indiscretion  of  gadding  in  strange  places  with 
no  better  escort  than  Diccon,  and  of  entering  into  con- 
versation with  unknown  persons.  Moreover,  Cicely's 
hair,  her  shoes,  and  camlet  riding  skirt  were  all  so 
dank  with  dew  that  she  was  with  difficulty  made  pre- 
sentable by  the  time  the  horses  were  brought  round 
The  Queen,  who  had  not  seen  the  girl  that  morning, 
made  her  come  and  ride  near  her,  asking  questions  on 
the  escapade,  and  giving  one  of  her  bewitching  pathetic 
smiles  as  she  said  how  she  envied  the  power  of  thus 
dancing  out  on  the  greensward,  and  breathing  the  free 
and  fresh  morning  air.  "  My  Scottish  blood  loves  the 
mountains,  and  bounds  the  more  freely  in  the  fresh 
breeze,"  she  said,  gazing  towards  the  Peak.  "  I  love 
the  scent  of  the  dew.  Didst  get  into  trouble,  child  ? 
Methought  I  heard  sounds  of  chiding  ? " 

"  It  was  no  fault  of  mine,"  said  Cis,  inclined  to 
complain  when  she  found  sympathy,  "  the  woman 
would  speak  to  us." 

"  What  woman  ?  "  asked  the  Queen. 

"A  poor  woman  with  a  basket  of  wares,  who 
prayed  hard  to  be  allowed  to  show  them  to  your 
Grace  or  some  of  the  ladies.  She  said  she  had  five 
sorely  hungered  children,  and  that  she  heard  your 
Grace  was  a  compassionate  lady." 

"  Woe  is  me,  compassion  is  full  all  that  I  am 
permitted  to  give,"  said  the  Queen,  sadly*  "  she  brought 
trinkets  to  sell.      What  were  her  wares,  saidst  thou  ?  " 

"  I  had  no  time  to  see  many,"  said  Cis,  "  something 
pure  and  white  like  a  new-laid  egg,  I  saw,  and  a 
necklet,  clouded  with  beauteous  purple." 

"  Ay,  beads  and  bracelets,  no  doubt,"  said  the 
Queen. 


XIII.]  BEADS  AND  BRACELETS.  159 

"  Yes,  beads  and  bracelets,"  returned  Cicely,  the 
soft  chime  of  the  Queen's  Scottish  accent  bringing 
back  to  her  that  the  woman  had  twice  pressed  on  her 
beads  and  bracelets. 

"  She  dwelt  on  them,"  said  the  Queen  lightly. 
"  Ay,  I  know  the  chant  of  the  poor  folk  who  ever 
hover  about  our  outskirts  in  hopes  to  sell  their  country 
gewgaws,  beads  and  bracelets,  collars  and  pins,  little 
guessing  that  she  whom  they  seek  is  poorer  than  them- 
selves. Mayhap,  our  Argus-eyed  lord  may  yet  let  the 
poor  dame  within  his  fence,  and  we  may  be  able  to 
gratify  thy  longing  for  those  same  purple  and  white 
beads  and  bracelets." 

Meantime  the  party  were  riding  on,  intending  to 
dine  at  Buxton,  which  meant  to  reach  it  by  noonday. 
The  tall  roof  of  the  great  hall  erected  by  the  Earl 
over  the  baths  was  already  coming  in  sight,  and  by 
and  by  they  would  look  into  the  valley.  The  Wye, 
after  coming  down  one  of  those  lovely  deep  ravines  to 
be  found  in  all  mountainous  countries,  here  flowed 
through  a  more  open  space,  part  of  which  had  been 
artificially  levelled,  but  which  was  covered  with 
buildings,  rising  out  amongst  the  rocks  and  trees. 

Most  conspicuous  among  them  was  a  large  freshly- 
built  erection  in  Tudor  architecture,  with  a  wide 
portal  arch,  and  five  separate  gables  starting  from  one 
central  building,  which  bore  a  large  clock-tower,  and 
was  decorated  at  every  corner  with  the  Talbots'  stout 
and  sturdy  form.  This  was  the  great  hall,  built  by  the 
present  Earl  George,  and  containing  five  baths,  intended 
to  serve  separately  for  each  sex,  gentle  and  simple,  with 
one  special  bath  reserved  for  the  sole  use  of  the  more 
distinguished  visitors.  Besides  this,  at  no  great  distance, 
was  the  Earl's  own  mansion,  "  a  very  goodly  house,  four 


160  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

square,  four  stories  high,"  with  stables,  offices,  and  all 
the  requisites  of  a  nobleman's  establishment,  and  this 
was  to  be  the  lodging  of  the  Scottish  Queen. 

Farther  off  was  another  house,  which  had  been 
built  by  permission  of  the  Earl,  under  the  auspices  of 
Dr.  Jones,  probably  one  of  the  first  of  the  long  series 
of  physicians  who  have  made  it  their  business  to 
enhance  the  fame  of  the  watering-places  where  they 
have  set  up  their  staff.  This  was  the  great  hostel  or 
lodging-house  for  the  patients  of  condition  who  re- 
sorted to  the  healing  springs,  and  nestled  here  and 
there  among  the  rocks  were  cottages  which  accom- 
modated, after  a  fashion,  the  poorer  sort,  who  might 
drag  themselves  to  the  spot  in  the  hope  of  washing 
away  their  rheumatic  pains  and  other  infirmities.  In 
a  distant  and  magnificent  way,  like  some  of  the  lesser 
German  potentates,  the  mighty  Lord  of  Shrewsbury 
took  toll  from  the  visitors  to  his  baths,  and  this  con- 
tributed to  repair  the  ravages  to  his  fortune  caused  by 
the  maintenance  of  his  royal  captive. 

Arriving  just  at  noontide,  the  Queen  and  her  escort 
beheld  a  motley  crowd  dispersed  about  the  sward  on 
the  banks  of  the  river,  some  playing  at  ball,  others 
resting  on  benches  or  walking  up  and  down  in  groups, 
exercise  being  recommended  as  part  of  the  cure.  All 
thronged  together  to  watch  the  Earl  and  his  captive 
ride  in  with  their  suite,  the  household  turning  out  to 
meet  them,  while  foremost  stood  a  dapper  little  figure 
with  a  short  black  cloak,  a  stiff  round  .  ruff,  and  a 
square  barrett  cap,  with  a  gold -headed  cane  in  one 
hand  and  a  paper  in  the  other. 

"Prepare  thy  patience,  Cis,"  whispered  Barbara 
Mowbray,  "now  shall  we  not  be  allowed  to  alight 
from  our  palfreys  till  we  have  heard  his  full  welcome 


XIII.]  BEADS  AND  BRACELETS.  161 

to  my  Lord,  and  all  his  plans  for  this  place,  how  it  is 
to  be  made  a  sanctuary  for  the  sick  during  their  abode 
there,  for  all  causes  saving  sacrilege,  treason,  murder, 
burglary,  and  highway  robbery,  with  a  license  to  eat 
flesh  on  a  Friday,  as  long  as  they  are  drinking  the 
waters!" 

It  was  as  Mistress  Mowbray  said.  Dr.  Jones's 
harangue  on  the  progress  of  Buxton  and  its  prospects 
had  always  to  be  endured  before  any  one  was  allowed 
to  dismount;  but  royalty  and  nobility  were  inured  to 
listening  with  a  good  grace,  and  Mary,  though  wearied 
and  aching,  sat  patiently  in  the  hot  sunshine,  and  was 
ready  to  declare  that  Buxton  put  her  in  good  humour. 
In  fact  the  grandees  and  their  immediate  attendants 
endured  with  all  the  grace  of  good  breeding ;  but  the 
farther  from  the  scene  of  action,  the  less  was  the 
patience,  and  the  more  restless  and  confused  the 
movements  of  the  retinue. 

Diccon  Talbot,  hungry  and  eager,  had  let  his 
equally  restless  pony  convey  him,  he  scarce  knew 
where,  from  his  father's  side,  when  he  saw,  making  her 
way  among  the  horses,  the  very  woman  with  the  basket 
whom  he  had  encountered  at  Tideswell  in  the  early 
morning.  How  could  she  have  gone  such  a  distance 
in  the  time?  thought  the  boy,  and  he  presently  caught 
the  words  addressed  to  one  of  the  grooms  of  the  Scot- 
tish Queen's  suite.  "  Let  me  show  my  poor  beads  and 
bracelets."  The  Scotsman  instantly  made  way  for  her, 
and  she  advanced  to  a  wizened  thin  old  Frenchman, 
Maitre  Gorion,  the  Queen's  surgeon,  who  jumped  down 
from  his  horse,  and  was  soon  bending  over  her  basket 
exchanging  whispers  in  the  lowest  possible  tones ;  but 
a  surge  among  those  in  the  rear  drove  Diccon  up  so 
near  that  he  was   absolutely  certain  that   they  were 

VOL.  I.  M 


162  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

speaking  French,  as  indeed  he  well  knew  that  M. 
Gorion  never  could  succeed  in  making  himself  under- 
stood in  English. 

The  boy,  bred  up  in  the  perpetual  caution  and 
suspicion  of  Sheffield,  was  eager  to  denounce  one  who 
he  was  sure  was  a  conspirator ;  but  he  was  hemmed  in 
among  horses  and  men,  so  that  he  could  not  make  his 
way  out  or  see  what  was  passing,  till  suddenly  there 
was  a  scattering  to  the  right  and  left,  and  a  simulta- 
neous shriek  from  the  ladies  in  front. 

When  Diccon  could  see  anything,  his  father  was 
pressing  forward  to  a  group  round  some  one  prostrate 
on  the  ground  before  the  house,  and  there  were  ex- 
clamations, "  The  poor  young  lady  !  The  chirurgeon  ! 
To  the  front,  the  Queen  is  asking  for  you,  sir,"  and 
Cicely's  horse  with  loose  bridle  passed  before  his  eyes. 

"  Let  me  through  !  let  me  through  !"  cried  the  boy ; 
"  it  is  my  sister." 

He  threw  his  bridle  to  a  groom,  and,  squeezing 
between  horses  and  under  elbows,  succeeded  in  seeing 
Cis  lying  on  the  ground  with  her  eyes  shut  and  her 
head  in  his  mother's  lap,  and  the  French  surgeon 
bending  over  her.  She  gave  a  cry  when  he  touched  her 
arm,  and  he  said  something  in  his  mixture  of  French 
and  English,  which  Diccon  could  not  hear.  The 
Queen  stood  close  by,  a  good  deal  agitated,  anxiously 
asking  questions,  and  throwing  out  her  hands  in  her 
French  fashion.  Diccon,  much  frightened,  struggled 
on,  but  only  reached  the  party  just  as  his  father  had 
gathered  Cicely  up  in  his  arms  to  carry  her  upstairs. 
Diccon  followed  as  closely  as  he  could,  but  blindly  in 
the  crowd  in  the  strange  house,  until  he  found  him- 
self in  a  long  gallery,  shut  out,  among  various  others 
of  both  sexes.    "  Come,  my  masters  and  mistresses  all," 


xiil]  beads  and  bracelets.  163 

said  the  voice  of  the  seneschal,  "  you  had  best  to  your 
chambers,  there  is  naught  for  you  to  do  here." 

However,  he  allowed  Diccon  to  remain  leaning 
against  the  balustrade  of  the  stairs  which  led  up  out- 
side the  house,  and  in  another  minute  his  father  came 
out.  "  Ha,  Diccon,  that  is  well,"  said  he.  "  No,  thou 
canst  not  enter.  They  are  about  to  undress  poor  little 
Cis.  Nay,  it  seemed  not  to  me  that  she  was  more 
hurt  than  thy  mother  could  well  have  dealt  with,  but 
the  French  surgeon  would  thrust  in,  and  the  Queen 
would  have  it  so.  We  will  walk  here  in  the  court  till 
we  hear  what  he  saith  of  her.  How  befell  it,  dost 
thou  ask  ?  Truly  I  can  hardly  tell,  but  I  believe  one 
of  the  Frenchmen's  horses  got  restless,  either  with  a 
rly  or  with  standing  so  long  to  hear  yonder  leech's 
discourse.  He  must  needs  cut  the  beast  with  his  rod, 
and  so  managed  to  hit  "White  Posy,  who  starts  aside, 
and  Cis,  sitting  unheedfully  on  that  new-fangled  French 
saddle,  was  thrown  in  an  instant." 

"  I  shall  laugh  at  her  well  for  letting  herself  be 
thrown  by  a  Frenchman  with  his  switch,"  said 
Diccon. 

"  I  hope  the  damage  hath  not  been  great,"  said  his 
father,  anxiously  looking  up  the  stair.  "  Where  wast 
thou,  Dick  ?     I  had  lost  sight  of  thee." 

"I  was  seekiug  you,  sir,  for  I  had  seen  a  strange 
sight,"  said  Dick.  "  That  woman  who  spoke  with  us 
at  Tideswell  was  here  again ;  yea,  and  she  talked  with 
the  little  old  Frenchman  that  they  call  Gorion,  the 
same  that  is  with  Cis  now." 

"  She  did  !  Folly,  boy  !  The  fellow  can  hardly 
comprehend  five  words  of  plain  English  together,  long 
as  he  hath  been  here  !  One  of  the  Queen's  women  is 
gone  in  even  now  to  interpret  for  him." 


164  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  That  do  I  wot,  sir.  Therefore  did  I  marvel,  and 
sought  to  tell  you." 

"  What  like  was  the  woman  ? "  demanded  Eichard. 

Diccon's  description  was  lame,  and  his  father  bade 
him  hasten  out  of  the  court,  and  fetch  the  woman  if  he 
could  find  her  displaying  her  trinkets  to  the  water- 
drinkers,  instructing  him  not  to  alarm  her  by  per- 
emptory commands,  but  to  give  her  hopes  of  a  purchaser 
for  her  spars.  Proud  of  the  commission  entrusted  to 
him,  the  boy  sallied  forth,  but  though  he  wandered 
through  all  the  groups  on  the  sward,  and  encountered 
two  tumblers  and  one  puppet  show,  besides  a  bear  and 
monkey,  he  utterly  failed  in  finding  the  vendor  of  the 
beads  and  bracelets. 


~& 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  165 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE  MONOGRAMS. 

When  Cicely  had  been  carried  into  a  chamber 
by  Master  Talbot,  and  laid  half  -  conscious  and 
moaning  on  the  grand  carved  bed,  Mrs.  Talbot  by 
word  and  gesture  expelled  all  superfluous  spectators. 
She  would  have  preferred  examining  alone  into  the 
injury  sustained  by  the  maiden,  which  she  did  not 
think  beyond  her  own  management ;  but  there  was  no 
refusing  the  services  of  Maitre  Gorion,  or  of  Mrs. 
Kennedy,  who  indeed  treated  her  authoritatively, 
assuming  the  direction  of  the  sick-room.  She  found 
herself  acting  under  their  orders  as  she  undid  the 
boddice,  while  Mrs.  Kennedy  ripped  up  the  tight 
sleeve  of  the  riding  dress,  and  laid  bare  the  arm  and 
shoulder,  which  had  been  severely  bruised  and  twisted, 
but  neither  broken  nor  dislocated,  as  Mrs.  Kennedy 
informed  her,  after  a  few  rapid  words  from  the  French- 
man, unintelligible  to  the  English  lady,  who  felt  some- 
what impatient  of  this  invasion  of  her  privileges,  and 
was  ready  to  say  she  had  never  supposed  any  such 
thing. 

The  chirurgeon  skipped  to  the  door,  and  for  a 
moment  she  hoped  that  she  was  rid  of  him,  but  he  had 
only  gone  to  bring   in   a  neat  case   with   which  his 


166  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

groom  was  in  waiting  outside,  whence  he  extracted  a 
lotion  and  sponge,  speaking  rapidly  as  he  did  so. 

"Now,  madam,"  said  Jean  Kennedy,  "lift  the 
lassie,  there,  turn  back  her  boddice,  and  we  will  bathe 
her  shouther.     So  !     By  my  halidome  !" 

"  Ah  !  Mort  de  ma  vie  /" 

The  two  exclamations  darted  simultaneously  from 
the  lips  of  the  Scottish  nurse  and  the  French  doctor. 
Susan  beheld  what  she  had  at  the  moment  forgotten, 
the  curious  mark  branded  on  her  nursling's  shoulder, 
which  indeed  she  had  not  seen  since  Cicely  had  been 
of  an  age  to  have  the  care  of  her  own  person,  and 
which  was  out  of  the  girl's  own  sight.  No  more 
was  said  at  the  moment,  for  Cis  was  reviving  fast, 
and  was  so  much  bewildered  and  frightened  that  she 
required  all  the  attention  and  soothing  that  the  two 
women  could  give,  but  when  they  removed  the  rest  of 
her  clothing,  so  that  she  might  be  laid  down  comfort- 
ably to  rest,  Mrs.  Kennedy  by  another  dexterous  move- 
ment uncovered  enough  of  the  other  shoulder  to  obtain 
a  glimpse  of  the  monogram  upon  it. 

Nothing  was  spoken.  Those  two  had  not  been  so 
many  years  attendants  on  a  suspected  and  imprisoned 
queen  without  being  prudent  and  cautious ;  but  when 
they  quitted  the  apartment  after  administering  a  febri- 
fuge, Susan  felt  a  pang  of  wonder,  whether  they  were 
about  to  communicate  their  discovery  to  their  mistress. 
For  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  patient  needed  all 
her  attention,  and  there  was  no  possibility  of  obeying  the 
summons  of  a  great  clanging  bell  which  announced  dinner. 
When,  however,  Cis  had  fallen  asleep  it  became  possible 
to  think  over  the  situation.  She  foresaw  an  inquiry, 
and  would  have  given  much  for  a  few  words  with  her 
husband ;  but  reflection  showed  her  that  the  one  point 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  167 

essential  to  his  safety  was  not  to  betray  that  he  and 
she  had  any  previous  knowledge  of  the  rank  of  their 
nursling.  The  existence  of  the  scroll  might  have  to 
be  acknowledged,  but  to  show  that  Eichard  had  de- 
ciphered it  would  put  him  in  danger  on  all  hands. 

She  had  just  made  up  her  mind  on  this  point  when 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Kennedy  bore 
in  a  salver  with  a  cup  of  wine,  and  took  from  an 
attendant,  who  remained  outside,  a  tray  with  some 
more  solid  food,  which  she  placed  on  the  broad  edge 
of  the  deep-set  window,  and  coming  to  the  bedside, 
invited  Mrs.  Talbot  to  eat,  while  she  watched  the  girl. 
Susan  complied,  though  with  little  appetite,  and  Mrs. 
Kennedy,  after  standing  for  a  few  minutes  in  contem- 
plation, came  to  the  window.  She  was  a  tall  woman, 
her  yellow  hair  softened  by  an  admixture  of  gray,  her 
eyes  keen  and  shrewd,  yet  capable  of  great  tenderness 
at  times,  her  features  certainly  not  youthful,  but  not 
a  whit  more  aged  than  they  had  been  when  Susan  had 
first  seen  her  fourteen  years  ago.  It  was  a  quiet  mouth, 
and  one  that  gave  a  sense  of  trust  both  in  its  firmness, 
secrecy,  and  kindness. 

"Madam,"  said  she,  in  her  soft  Scotch  voice, 
lowered  considerably,  but  not  whispering,  and  with 
her  keen  eyes  fixed  on  Susan — "  Madam,  what  garred 
ye  gie  your  bit  lassie  yonder  marks  ?  Ye  need  not 
fear,  that  draught  of  Maister  Gorion's  will  keep  her 
sleeping  fast  for  a  good  hour  or  two  longer,  and  it 
behoves  me  to  ken  how  she  cam  by  yonder  brands." 

"  She  had  them  when  she  came  to  us,"  said  Susan. 

"  YeTl  no  persuade  me  that  they  are  birth  marks," 
returned  Mistress  Jean.  "  Such  a  thing  would  be  a 
miracle  in  a  loyal  Scottish  Catholic's  wean,  let  alone  an 
Knglish  heretic's." 


168  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  No,"  said  Susan,  who  had  in  fact  only  made  the 
answer  to  give  herself  time  to  think  whether  it  were 
possible  to  summon  her  husband.  "They  never  seemed 
to  me  birth  marks." 

"Woman,"  said  Jean  Kennedy,  laying  a  strong, 
though  soft  hand,  on  her  wrist,  "  this  is  not  gear  for 
trifling.  Is  the  lass  your  ain  bairn  ?  Ha  !  I  always 
thought  she  had  mair  of  the  kindly  Scot  than  of  the 
Southron  about  her.  Hech !  so  they  made  the  puir 
wean  captive  !  Wha  gave  her  till  you  to  keep  ?  Your 
lord,  I  trow." 

"The  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,"  replied  Susan. 
"  My  husband  took  her,  the  only  living  thing  left  on  a 
wreck  off  the  Spurn  Head." 

"  Hech,  sirs  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kennedy,  evidently 
much  struck,  but  still  exercising  great  self-command. 
"And  when  fell  this  out  ?" 

"  Two  days  after  Low  Sunday,  in  the  year  of  grace 
1568,"  returned  Susan. 

"  My  halidome  !'?  again  ejaculated  Jean,  in  a  low 
voice,  crossing  herself.  "  And  what  became  of  honest 
Ailie — I  mean,"  catching  herself  up,  "  what  befell  those 
that  went  with  her  ?" 

"  Not  one  lived,"  said  Susan,  gravely.  "  The  mate 
of  my  husband's  ship  took  the  little  one  from  the  arms 
of  her  nurse,  who  seemed  to  have  been  left  alone  with 
her  by  the  crew,  lashed  to  the  wreck,  and  to  have  had 
her  life  freshly  beaten  out  by  the  winds  and  waves,  for 
she  was  still  warm.  I  was  then  lying  at  Hull,  and 
they  brought  the  babe  to  me,  while  there  was  still  time 
to  save  her  life,  with  God's  blessing." 

"  And  the  vessel  ?"  asked  Jean. 

"  My  husband  held  it  to  be  the  Bride  of  Dunbar, 
plying  between   that  port  and   Harfleur." 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  169 

"Ay!  ay!  Blessed  St.  Bride!"  muttered  Jean 
Kennedy,  with  an  awe-stricken  look ;  then,  collecting 
herself,  she  added,  "  Were  there  no  tokens,  save  these, 
about  the  little  one,  by  which  she  could  be  known  ? " 

"  There  was  a  gold  chain  with  a  cross,  and  what 
you  call  a  reliquary  about  her  little  neck,  and  a  scroll 
written  in  cipher  among  her  swaddling  bands  ;  but  they 
are  laid  up  at  home,  at  Bridgefield." 

It  was  a  perplexing  situation  for  this  simple-hearted 
and  truthful  woman,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  Jean 
Kennedy  was  no  less  devoted  and  loyal  in  her  own 
line,  a  good  and  conscientious  woman,  but  shrewder, 
and,  by  nature  and  breeding,  far  less  scrupulous  as  to 
absolute  truth. 

The  one  idea  that  Susan,  in  her  confusion,  could 
keep  hold  of  was  that  any  admission  of  knowledge  as 
to  who  her  Cis  really  was,  would  be  a  betrayal  of  her 
husband's  secret ;  and  on  the  other  hand  she  saw  that 
Mrs.  Kennedy,  though  most  keen  to  discover  every- 
thing, and  no  doubt  convinced  that  the  maiden  was  her 
Queen's  child,  was  bent  on  not  disclosing  that  fact  to 
the  foster-mother. 

She  asked  anxiously  whether  Mistress  Cicely  knew 
of  her  being  only  an  adopted  child,  and  Susan  replied 
that  they  had  intended  that  she  never  should  learn 
that  she  was  of  alien  birth ;  but  that  it  had  been 
revealed  by  the  old  sailor  who  had  brought  her  on 
board  the  Mastiff,  though  no  one  had  heard  him  save 
young  Humfrey  and  the  girl  herself,  and  they  had  been, 
so  far  as  she  knew,  perfectly  reserved  on  the  subject. 

Jean  Kennedy  then  inquired  how  the  name  of  Cicely 
had  been  given,  and  whether  the  child  had  been  so 
baptized  by  Protestant  rites. 

""Wot  you  who  the  maid  may  be,  madam?"  Susan 


170  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

took  courage  to  ask ;  but  the  Scotswoman  would  not 
be  disconcerted,  and  replied, 

"  How  suld  I  ken  without  a  sight  of  the  tokens  ? 
Gin  I  had  them,  maybe  I  might  give  a  guess,  but  there 
was  mony  a  leal  Scot  sairly  bestead,  wife  and  wean 
and  all,  in  her  Majesty's  cause  that  wearie  spring." 

Here  Cis  stirred  in  her  sleep,  and  both  women  were 
at  her  side  in  a  moment,  but  she  did  not  wake. 

Jean  Kennedy  stood  gazing  at  the  girl  with  eager- 
ness that  she  did  not  attempt  to  conceal,  studying  each 
feature  in  detail;  but  Cis  showed  in  her  sleep  very 
little  of  her  royal  lineage,  which  betrayed  itself  far 
more  in  her  gait  and  bearing  than  in  her  features. 
Susan  could  not  help  demanding  of  the  nurse  whether 
she  saw  any  resemblance  that  could  show  the  maiden's 
parentage. 

The  old  lady  gave  a  kind  of  Scotch  guttural  sound 
expressive  of  disappointment,  and  said,  "I'll  no  say 
but  I've  seen  the  like  beetle-broo.  But  we'll  waken 
the  bairn  with  our  clavers.  I'll  away  the  noo.  Maister 
Gorion  will  see  her  again  ere  night,  but  it  were  ill  to 
break  her  sleep,  the  puir  lassie  !" 

Nevertheless,  she  could  not  resist  bending  over  and 
kissing  the  sleeper,  so  gently  that  there  was  no  move- 
ment. Then  she  left  the  room,  and  Susan  stood  with 
clasped  hands. 

"  My  child  !  my  child  !  Oh,  is  it  coming  on  thee  ? 
Wilt  thou  be  taken  from  me  !  Oh,  and  to  what  a  fate  ! 
And  to  what  hands  !  They  will  never  never  love  thee  as 
we  have  done  !     0  God,  protect  her,  and  be  her  Father." 

And  Susan  knelt  by  the  bed  in  such  a  paroxysm  of 
grief  that  her  husband,  coming  in  unshod  that  he  might 
not  disturb  the  girl,  apprehended  that  she  had  become 
seriously  worse. 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  171 

However,  his  entrance  awoke  her,  and  she  found 
herself  much  better,  and  was  inclined  to  talk,  so  he  sat 
down  on  a  chest  by  the  bed,  and  related  what  Diccon 
had  told  him  of  the  reappearance  of  the  woman  with 
the  basket  of  spar  trinkets. 

"  Beads  and  bracelets,"  said  Cicely. 

"  Ay  ?"  said  he.      "  What  knowest  thou  of  them  ?" 

"  Only  that  she  spake  the  words  so  often ;  and  the 
Queen,  just  ere  that  doctor  began  his  speech,  asked  of 
me  whether  she  did  not  sell  beads  and  bracelets." 

"  'Tis  a  password,  no  doubt,  and  we  must  be  on  our 
guard,"  said  Eichard,  while  his  wife  demanded  with 
whom  Diccon  had  seen  her  speaking. 

"  With  Gorion,"  returned  he.  "  That  was  what 
made  the  lad  suspect  something,  knowing  that  the 
chirurgeon  can  barely  speak  three  sentences  in  any 
tongue  but  his  own,  and  those  are  in  their  barbarous 
Scotch.  I  took  the  boy  with  me  and  inquired  here, 
there,  and  everywhere  this  afternoon,  but  could  find  no 
one  who  had  ever  seen  or  heard  of  any  one  like  her." 

"Tell  me,  Cis,"  exclaimed  Susan,  with  a  sudden 
conviction,  "  was  she  like  in  any  fashion  to  Tibbott  the 
huckster- woman  who  brought  young  Babington  into 
trouble  three  years  agone  ?" 

"Women's  heads  all  run  on  one  notion,"  said 
Eichard.  "  Can  there  be  no  secret  agents  save  poor 
Cuthbert,  whom  I  believe  to  be  beyond  seas  ?" 

"  Nay,  but  hear  what  saith  the  child  ? "  asked 
Susan. 

"This  woman  was  not  nearly  so  old  as  Tibbott," 
said  Cis,  "  nor  did  she  walk  with  a  staff,  nor  had  she 
those  grizzled  black  brows  that  were  wont  to  frighten 
me." 

"  But  was  she  tall  ?"  asked  Susan. 


172  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Oil  yes,  mother.  She  was  very  tall — she  came 
after  Diccon  and  me  with  long  strides — yet  it  could 
never  have  been  Tibbott!" 

Susan  had  reasons  for  thinking  otherwise,  but  she 
could  not  pursue  the  subject  at  that  time,  as  she  had 
to  go  down  to  supper  with  her  husband,  and  privacy 
was  impossible.  Even  at  night,  nobody  enjoyed  exten- 
sive quarters,  and  but  for  Cicely's  accident  she  would 
have  slept  with  Dyot,  the  tirewoman,  who  had  arrived 
with  the  baggage,  which  included  a  pallet  bed  for  them. 
However,  the  young  lady  had  been  carried  to  a  chamber 
intended  for  one  of  Queen  Mary's  suite ;  and  there  it 
was  decreed  that  she  should  remain  for  the  night,  the 
mother  sleeping  with  her,  while  the  father  and  son 
betook  themselves  to  the  room  previously  allotted  to 
the  family.  Only  on  the  excuse  of  going  to  take  out 
her  husband's  gear  from  the  mails  was  Susan  able  to 
secure  a  few  words  with  him,  and  then  by  ordering 
out  Diccon,  Dyot,  and  the  serving-man.  Then  she 
could  succeed  in  saying,  "  Mine  husband,  all  will  soon 
out — Mistress  Kennedy  and  Master  Gorion  have  seen 
the  brands  on  the  child's  shoulders.  It  is  my  belief 
that  she  of  the  '  beads  and  bracelets '  bade  the  chirur- 
geon  look  for  them.  Else,  why  should  he  have  thrust 
himself  in  for  a  hurt  that  women-folk  had  far  better 
have  tended  ?  Now,  that  kinsman  of  yours  knew  that 
poor  Cis  was  none  of  ours,  and  gave  her  a  hint  of  it 
long  ago — that  is,  if  Tibbott  were  he,  and  not  some- 
thing worse." 

Eichard  shook  his  head.  "  Give  a  woman  a  hint  of 
a  seminary  priest  in  disguise,  and  she  would  take  a 
new-born  baby  for  one.  I  tell  thee  I  heard  that 
Cuthbert  was  safe  in  Paris.  But,  be  that  as  it  may,  I 
trust  thou  hast  been  discreet." 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  173 

"  So  I  strove  to  be,"  said  Susan.  "  Mrs.  Kennedy 
questioned  me,  and  I  told  her." 

"  What  ?"  sharply  demanded  her  husband. 

"  Nought  but  truth,"  she  answered,  "  save  that  I 
showed  no  knowledge  who  the  maid  really  is,  nor 
let  her  guess  that  you  had  read  the  scroll." 

"  That  is  well.  Frank  Talbot  was  scarce  within 
his  duty  when  he  gave  me  the  key,  and  it  were  as 
much  as  my  head  were  worth  to  be  known  to  have 
been  aware  of  the  matter."  To  this  Susan  could  only 
assent,  as  they  were  interrupted  by  the  serving-man 
coming  to  ask  directions  about  the  bestowal  of  the 
goods. 

She  was  relieved  by  this  short  colloquy,  but  it  was 
a  sad  and  wakeful  night  for  her  as  Cicely  slept  by  her 
side.  Her  love  was  too  truly  motherly  not  to  be 
deeply  troubled  at  the  claim  of  one  of  differing  religion 
and  nation,  and  who  had  so  uncertain  and  perilous 
a  lot  in  which  to  place  her  child.  There  was  also 
the  sense  that  all  her  dearest,  including  her  eldest 
son,  were  involved  in  the  web  of  intrigue  with  per- 
sons far  mightier  and  more  unscrupulous  than  them- 
selves ;  and  that,  however  they  might  strive  to  preserve 
their  integrity,  it  would  be  very  hard  to  avoid  suspicion 
and  danger. 

In  this  temporary  abode,  the  household  of  the 
Queen  and  of  the  Earl  ate  together,  in  the  great  hall, 
and  thus  while  breaking  their  fast  in  the  morning  Jean 
Kennedy  found  opportunity  to  examine  Eichard  Talbot 
on  all  the  circumstances  of  the  wreck  of  the  Bride  of 
Dunbar,  and  the  finding  of  the  babe.  She  was  much 
more  on  her  guard  than  the  day  before,  and  said  that 
she  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  as  to  who  the  babe's  parents 
might  be,  but  that  she  could  not  be  certain  without 


174  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

seeing  the  reliquary  and  the  scroll.  Eichard  replied 
that  they  were  at  home,  but  made  no  offer  of  sending 
for  them.  "Nor  will  I  do  so,"  said  he  to  his  wife, 
"  unless  I  am  dealt  plainly  with,  and  the  lady  herself 
asks  for  them.  Then  should  I  have  no  right  to  detain 
them." 

M.  Gorion  would  not  allow  his  patient  to  leave 
her  room  that  day,  and  she  had  to  remain  there  while 
Susan  was  in  attendance  on  the  Queen,  who  did  not 
appear  to  her  yet  to  have  heard  of  the  discovery,  and 
who  was  entering  with  zest  into  the  routine  of  the 
place,  where  Dr.  Jones  might  be  regarded  as  the 
supreme  legislator. 

Each  division  of  the  great  bath  hall  was  fitted  with 
drying  and  dressing  room,  arranged  commodiously  accord- 
ing to  the  degree  of  those  who  were  to  use  them.  Eoyalty, 
of  course,  enjoyed  a  monopoly,  and  after  the  hot  bath, 
which  the  Queen  took  immediately  after  rising,  she 
breakfasted  in  her  own  apartments,  and  then  came 
forth,  according  to  the  regimen  of  the  place,  by  playing 
at  Trowle  Madame.  A  board  with  arches  cut  in,  just 
big  enough  to  permit  the  entrance  of  the  balls  used  in 
playing  at  bowls  was  placed  on  the  turf  at  a  convenient 
distance  from  the  player.  Each  arch  was  numbered, 
from  one  to  thirteen,  but  the  numbers  were  irregularly 
arranged,  and  the  game  consisted  in  rolling  bowls  into 
the  holes  in  succession,  each  player  taking  a  single 
turn,  and  the  winner  reaching  the  highest  number 
first, — being,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  lawn  bagatelle.  Dr. 
Jones  recommended  it  as  good  to  stretch  the  rheumatic 
joints  of  his  patients,  and  Queen  Mary,  an  adept  at  all 
out-of-door  games,  delighted  in  it,  though  she  had  refused 
an  offer  to  have  the  lawn  arranged  for  it  at  Sheffield, 
saying  that  it  would  only  spoil  a  Buxton  delight.     She 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  175 

was  still  too  stiff  to  play  herself,  but  found  infinite 
amusement  in  teaching  the  new-comers  the  game,  and 
poor  Susan,  with  her  thoughts  far  away,  was  scarcely 
so  apt  a  pupil  as  befitted  a  royal  mistress,  especially 
as  she  missed  Mrs.  Kennedy. 

When  she  came  back,  she  found  that  the  dame  had 
been  sitting  with  the  patient,  and  had  made  herself 
very  agreeable  to  the  girl  by  drawing  out  from  her  all 
she  knew  of  her  own  story  from  beginning  to  end, 
having  first  shown  that  she  knew  of  the  wreck  of  the 
Bride  of  Dunbar. 

"  And,  mother,"  said  Cis,  "  she  says  she  is  nearly 
certain  that  she  knows  who  my  true  parents  were,  and 
that  she  could  be  certain  if  she  saw  the  swaddling 
clothes  and  tokens  you  had  with  me.  Have  you, 
mother  ?     I  never  knew  of  them." 

"Yes,  child,  I  have.  "We  did  not  wish  to  trouble 
and  perturb  your  mind,  little  one,  while  you  were  con- 
tent to  be  our  daughter." 

"  Ah,  mother,  I  would  fain  be  yours  and  father's 
still.  They  must  not  take  me  from  you.  But  sup- 
pose I  was  some  great  and  noble  lord's  daughter,  and 
had  a  great  inheritance  and  lordship  to  give  Humfrey  ! " 

"  Alas,  child !  Scottish  inheritances  are  wont  to 
bring  more  strife  than  wealth." 

Nevertheless,  Cis  went  on  supposing  and  building 
castles  that  were  pain  and  grief  to  her  foreboding 
auditor.  That  evening,  however,  Eichard  called  his 
wife.  It  was  late,  but  the  northern  sunset  was  only 
just  over,  and  Susan  could  wander  out  with  him  on 
the  greensward  in  front  of  the  Earl's  house. 

"  So  this  is  the  tale  we  are  to  be  put  off  with,"  he 
said,  "from  the  Queen  herself,  ay,  herself,  and  told 
with  such  an  air  of  truth  that  it  would  almost  make 


176  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

me  discredit  the  scroll.  She  told  me  with  one  of  her 
sweetest  smiles  how  a  favourite  kinswoman  of  hers 
wedded  in  secret  with  a  faithful  follower  of  hers,  of  the 
clan  Hepburn.  Oh,  I  assure  you  it  might  have  been 
a  ballad  sung  by  a  harper  for  its  sadness.  Well,  this 
fellow  ventured  too  far  in  her  service,  and  had  to  flee 
to  France  to  become  an  archer  of  the  guard,  while  the 
wife  remained  and  died  at  Lochleven  Castle,  having 
given  birth  to  our  Cis,  whom  the  Queen  in  due  time 
despatched  to  her  father,  he  being  minded  to  have  her 
bred  up  in  a  French  nunnery,  sending  her  to  Dunbar 
to  be  there  embarked  in  the  Bride  of  Dunbar." 

"And  the  father?" 

"  Oh,  forsooth,  the  father  !  It  cost  her  as  little  to 
dispose  of  him  as  of  the  mother.  He  was  killed  in 
some  brawl  with  the  Huguenots  ;  so  that  the  poor  child 
is  altogether  an  orphan,  beholden  to  our  care,  for  which 
she  thanked  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that  were  more 
true  than  mayhap  the  poor  woman  could  help." 

"  Poor  lady,"  said  Susan.  "  Yet  can  it  not  be  sooth 
indeed?" 

"  Nay,  dame,  that  may  not  be.  The  cipher  is  not 
one  that  would  be  used  in  simply  sending  a  letter  to 
the  father." 

"  Might  not  the  occasion  have  been  used  for  cor- 
responding in  secret  with  French  friends  ? " 

"  I  tell  thee,  wife,  if  I  read  one  word  of  that  letter, 
I  read  that  the  child  was  her  own,  and  confided  to  the 
Abbess  of  Soissons  !  I  will  read  it  to  thee  once  more 
ere  I  yield  it  up,  that  is  if  I  ever  do.  Wherefore 
cannot  the  woman  speak  truth  to  me  ?  I  would  be 
true  and  faithful  were  I  trusted,  but  to  be  thus  put 
off  with  lies  makes  a  man  ready  at  once  to  ride  off 
with  the  whole  to  the  Queen  in  council." 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  177 

"  Think,  but  think,  dear  sir,"  pleaded  Susan,  "  how 
the  poor  lady  is  pressed,  and  how  much  she  has  to 
fear  on  all  sides." 

"  Ay,  because  lies  have  been  meat  and  drink  to 
her,  till  she  cannot  speak  a  soothfast  word  nor  know 
an  honest  man  when  she  sees  him." 

"What  would  she  have  ?" 

"That  Cis  should  remain  with  us  as  before,  and 
still  pass  for  our  daughter,  till  such  time  as  these 
negotiations  are  over,  and  she  recover  her  kingdom. 
That  is — so  far  as  I  see — like  not  to  be  till  latter 
Lammas — but  meantime  what  sayest  thou,  Susan  ? 
Ah  !  I  knew,  anything  to  keep  the  child  with  thee  ! 
Well,  be  it  so — though  if  I  had  known  the  web  we 
were  to  be  wound  into,  I'd  have  sailed  for  the  Indies 
with  Humfrey  long  ago  !" 


vol.  I. 


178  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE    XY. 

MOTHER  AND  CHILD. 

Cicely  was  well  enough  the  next  day  to  leave  her 
room  and  come  out  on  the  summer's  evening  to  enjoy 
the  novel  spectacle  of  Trowle  Madame,  in  which  she 
burned  to  participate,  so  soon  as  her  shoulder  should 
be  well.  It  was  with  a  foreboding  heart  that  her 
adopted  mother  fell  with  her  into  the  rear  of  the  suite 
who  were  attending  Queen  Mary,  as  she  went  down- 
stairs to  walk  on  the  lawn,  and  sit  under  a  canopy 
whence  she  could  watch  either  that  game,  or  the 
shooting  at  the  butts  which  was  being  carried  on  a 
little  farther  off. 

"  So,  our  bonnie  maiden,"  said  Mary,  brightening  as 
she  caught  sight  of  the  young  girl,  "thou  art  come 
forth  once  more  to  rejoice  mine  eyes,  a  sight  for  sair 
een,  as  they  say  in  Scotland,"  and  she  kissed  the  fresh 
cheeks  with  a  tenderness  that  gave  Susan  a  strange 
pang.  Then  she  asked  kindly  after  the  hurt,  and  bade 
Cis  sit  at  her  feet,  while  she  watched  a  match  in 
archery  between  some  of  the  younger  attendants,  now 
and  then  laying  a  caressing  hand  upon  the  slender 
figure. 

"  Little  one,"  she  said,  "  I  would  fain  have  thee  to 
share  my  pillow.     I  have  had  no  young  bed-fellow 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  179 

since  Bess  Pierrepoint  left  us.  Wilt  thou  stoop  to 
corne  and  cheer  the  poor  old  caged  bird  ?" 

"  Oh,  madam,  how  gladly  will  I  do  so  if  I  may !" 
cried  Cicely,  delighted. 

"  We  will  take  good  care  of  her,  Mistress  Talbot," 
said  Mary,  "  and  deliver  her  up  to  you  whole  and  sain 
in  the  morning,"  and  there  was  a  quivering  playfulness 
in  her  voice. 

"  Your  Grace  is  the  mistress,"  answered  Susan,  with 
a  sadness  not  quite  controlled. 

"  Ah  !  you  mock  me,  madam.  Would  that  I  were  1" 
returned  the  Queen.  "  It  is  my  Lord's  consent  that 
we  must  ask.  How  say  you,  my  Lord,  may  I  have 
this  maiden  for  my  warder  at  night  ?" 

Lord  Shrewsbury  was  far  from  seeing  any  objection, 
and  the  promise  was  given  that  Cis  should  repair  to 
the  Queen's  chamber  for  at  least  that  night.  She  was 
full  of  excitement  at  the  prospect. 

"  Why  look  you  so  sadly  at  me,  sweet  mother  ? "  she 
cried,  as  Susan  made  ready  her  hair,  and  assisted  her  in 
all  the  arrangements  for  which  her  shoulder  was  still 
too  stiff;  "  you  do  not  fear  that  they  will  hurt  my  arm  ?" 

*  Xo,  truly,  my  child.  They  have  tender  and  skil- 
ful hands." 

"  May  be  they  will  tell  me  the  story  of  my  parents," 
said  Cis ;  "  but  you  need  never  doubt  me,  mother. 
Though  I  were  to  prove  to  be  ever  so  great  a  lady,  no 
one  could  ever  be  mine  own  mother  like  you  !" 

"  Scarcely  in  love,  my  child,"  said  Susan,  as  she 
wrapped  the  little  figure  in  a  loose  gown,  and  gave  her 
such  a  kiss  as  parents  seldom  permitted  themselves,  in 
the  fear  of  "  cockering"  their  children,  which  was  con- 
sidered to  be  a  most  reprehensible  practice.  Nor  could 
she  refrain  from  closely  pressing  Cicely's  hand  as  they 


180  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

passed  through  the  corridor  to  the  Queen's  apartments, 
gave  the  word  to  the  two  yeomen  who  were  on  guard 
for  the  night  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  tapped  at 
the  outmost  door  of  the  royal  suite  of  rooms.  It  was 
opened  by  a  French  valet  ;  but  Mrs.  Kennedy  in- 
stantly advanced,  took  the  maiden  by  the  hand,  and 
with  a  significant  smile  said  :  "  Gramercy,  madam,  we 
will  take  unco  gude  tent  of  the  lassie.  A  fair  gude 
nicht  to  ye."  And  Mrs.  Talbot  felt,  as  she  put  the  little 
hand  into  that  of  the  nurse,  and  saw  the  door  shut  on 
them,  as  if  she  had  virtually  given  up  her  daughter, 
and,  oh  !  was  it  for  her  good  ? 

Cis  was  led  into  the  bedchamber,  bright  with 
wax  tapers,  though  the  sky  was  not  yet  dark.  She 
heard  a  sound  as  of  closing  and  locking  double 
doors,  while  some  one  drew  back  a  crimson,  gold-edged 
velvet  curtain,  which  she  had  seen  several  times,  and 
which  it  was  whispered  concealed  the  shrine  where 
Queen  Mary  performed  her  devotions.  She  had  just 
risen  from  before  it,  at  the  sound  of  Cis's  entrance, 
and  two  of  her  ladies,  Mary  Seaton  and  Marie  de 
Courcelles,  seemed  to  have  been  kneeling  with  her. 
She  was  made  ready  for  bed,  with  a  dark-blue  velvet 
gown  corded  round  her,  and  her  hair,  now  very  gray, 
braided  beneath  a  little  round  cap,  but  a  square  of  soft 
cambric  drapery  had  been  thrown  over  her  head,  so  as 
to  form  a  perfectly  graceful  veil,  and  shelter  the  features 
that  were  aging.  Indeed,  when  Queen  Mary  wore  the 
exquisite  smile  that  now  lit  up  her  face  as  she  held  out 
her  arms,  no  one  ever  paused  to  think  what  those 
lineaments  really  were.  She  held  out  her  arms  as 
Cis  advanced  bashfully,  and  said :  "  Welcome,  my 
sweet  bed-fellow,  my  little  Scot — one  more  loyal  sub- 
ject come  to  me  in  my  bondage." 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  181 

Cis's  impulse  was  to  put  a  knee  to  the  ground  and  kiss 
the  hands  that  received  her.  "  Thou  art  our  patient," 
continued  Mary.  "  I  will  see  thee  in  bed  ere  I  settle 
myself  there."  The  bed  was  a  tall,  large,  carved  erec- 
tion, with  sweeping  green  and  silver  curtains,  and  a 
huge  bank  of  lace-bordered  pillows.  A  flight  of  low 
steps  facilitated  the  ascent ;  and  Cis,  passive  in  this 
new  scene,  was  made  to  throw  off  her  dressing-gown 
and  climb  up. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Queen,  "  let  me  see  the  poor 
little  shoulder  that  hath  suffered  so  much." 

"  My  arm  is  still  bound,  madam,"  said  Cis.  But 
she  was  not  listened  to ;  and  Mrs.  Kennedy,  much  to 
her  discomfiture,  turned  back  her  under-garment.  The 
marks  were,  in  fact,  so  placed  as  to  be  entirely  out  of 
her  own  view,  and  Mrs.  Susan  had  kept  them  from  the 
knowledge  or  remark  of  any  one.  They  were  also  high 
enough  up  to  be  quite  clear  from  the  bandages,  and 
thus  she  was  amazed  to  hear  the  exclamation,  "  There  ! 
sooth  enough." 

'■  Monsieur  Gorion  could  swear  to  them  instantly." 

"  What  is  it  ?  Oh,  what  is  it,  madam  ?  "  cried  Cis, 
affrighted ;  "  is  there  anything  on  my  back  ?  Xo 
plague  spot,  I  hope  ;"  and  her  eyes  grew  round  with 
terror. 

The  Queen  laughed.  "  Xo  plague  spot,  sweet  one, 
save,  perhaps,  in  the  eyes  of  you  Protestants,  but  to  me 
they  are  a  gladsome  sight — a  token  I  never  hoped 
to  see." 

And  the  bewildered  girl  felt  a  pair  of  soft  lips  kiss 
each  mark  in  turn,  and  then  the  covering  was  quickly 
and  caressingly  restored,  and  Mary  added,  "  Lie  down, 
my  child,  and  now  to  bed,  to  bed,  my  maids.  Put  out 
the  lights."      Then,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  as 


182  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

Cis  had  seen  poor  Antony  Babington  do,  the  Queen, 
just  as  all  the  lights  save  one  were  extinguished,  was 
divested  of  her  wrapper  and  veil,  and  took  her  place 
beside  Cis  on  the  pillows.  The  two  Maries  left  the 
chamber,  and  Jean  Kennedy  disposed  herself  on  a  pallet 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"  And  so,"  said  the  Queen,  in  a  low  voice,  tender, 
but  with  a  sort  of  banter,  "  she  thought  she  had  the 
plague  spot  on  her  little  white  shoulders.  Didst  thou 
really  not  know  what  marks  thou  bearest,  little  one  ? " 

"  No,  madam,"  said  Cis.  "  Is  it  what  I  have  felt 
with  my  fingers  ? " 

"  Listen,  child/'  said  Mary.  "  Art  thou  at  thine 
ease ;  thy  poor  shoulder  resting  well  ?  There,  then, 
give  me  thine  hand,  and  I  will  tell  thee  a  tale.  There 
was  a  lonely  castle  in  a  lake,  grim,  cold,  and  northerly ; 
and  thither  there  was  brought  by  angry  men  a  captive 
woman.  They  had  dealt  with  her  strangely  and  sub- 
tilly ;  they  had  laid  on  her  the  guilt  of  the  crimes  them- 
selves had  wrought;  and  when  she  clung  to  the  one 
man  whom  at  least  she  thought  honest,  they  had  forced 
and  driven  her  into  wedding  him,  only  that  all  the 
world  might  cry  out  upon  her,  forsake  her,  and  deliver 
her  up  into  those  cruel  hands." 

There  was  something  irresistibly  pathetic  in  Mary's 
voice,  and  the  maiden  lay  gazing  at  her  with  swimming 
eyes. 

"  Thou  dost  pity  that  poor  lady,  sweet  one  ?  There 
was  little  pity  for  her  then  !  She  had  looked  her  last 
on  her  lad  -  bairn ;  ay,  and  they  had  said  she  had 
striven  to  poison  him,  and  they  were  breeding  him  up 
to  loathe  the  very  name  of  his  mother  ;  yea,  and  to  hate 
and  persecute  the  Church  of  his  father  and  his  mother 
both.     And  so  it  was,  that  the  lady  vowed  that  if 


XV.]  MOTHER  AXD  CHILD.  183 

another  babe  was  granted  to  her,  sprung  of  that  last 
strange  miserable  wedlock,  these  foes  of  hers  should 
have  no  part  in  it,  nor  knowledge  of  its  very  existence, 
but  that  it  should  be  bred  up  beyond  their  ken — safe 
out  of  their  reach.  Ah  !  child ;  good  Nurse  Kennedy 
can  best  tell  thee  how  the  jealous  eyes  and  ears  were 
disconcerted,  and  in  secrecy  and  sorrow  that  birth  took 
place." 

Cis's  heart  was  beating  too  fast  for  speech,  but 
there  was  a  tight  close  pressure  of  the  hand  that  Mary 
had  placed  within  hers. 

"  The  poor  mother,"  went  on  the  Queen  in  a  low 
trembling  voice,  "  durst  have  scarce  one  hour's  joy  of  her 
first  and  only  daughter,  ere  the  trusty  Gorion  took  the 
little  one  from  her,  to  be  nursed  in  a  hut  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lake.  There,"  continued  Mary,  forgetting 
the  third  person,  "  I  hoped  to  have  joined  her,  so  soon 
as  I  was  afoot  again.  The  faithful  lavender  lent  me 
her  garments,  and  I  was  already  in  the  boat,  but  the 
men-at-arms  were  rude  and  would  have  pulled  down 
my  muffler ;  I  raised  my  hand  to  protect  myself,  and 
it  was  all  too  white.  They  had  not  let  me  stain  it, 
because  the  dye  would  not  befit  a  washerwoman.  So 
there  was  I  dragged  back  to  ward  again,  and  all  our 
plans  overthrown.  And  it  seemed  safer  and  meeter  to 
put  my  little  one  out  of  reach  of  all  my  foes,  even  if 
it  were  far  away  from  her  mother's  aching  heart.  Not 
one  more  embrace  could  I  be  granted,  but  my  good 
chaplain  Ross — whom  the  saints  rest — baptized  her  in 
secret,  and  Gorion  had  set  two  marks  on  the  soft  flesh, 
which  he  said  could  never  be  blotted  out  in  after 
years,  and  then  her  father's  clanswoman,  Alison  Hep- 
burn, undertook  to  carry  her  to  France,  with  a  letter 
of  mine  bound  up  in  her  swathing  clothes,  committing 


184  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

her  to  the  charge  of  my  good  aunt,  the  Abbess  of 
Soissons,  in  utter  secrecy,  until  better  days  should 
come.  Alas !  I  thought  them  not  so  far  off.  I 
deemed  that  were  I  once  beyond  the  clutches  of 
Morton,  Euthven,  and  the  rest,  the  loyal  would  rally 
once  more  round  my  standard,  and  my  crown  would 
be  mine  own,  mine  enemies  and  those  of  my  Church 
beneath  my  feet.  Little  did  I  guess  that  my  escape 
would  only  be  to  see  them  slain  and  routed,  and  that 
when  I  threw  myself  on  the  hospitality  of  my  cousin, 
her  tender  mercies  would  prove  such  as  I  have  found 
them.      '  Libera  me,  Domine,  libera  me!  " 

Cis  began  dimly  to  understand,  but  she  was  still 
too  much  awed  to  make  any  demonstration,  save  a 
convulsive  pressure  of  the  Queen's  hand,  and  the 
murmuring  of  the  Latin  prayer  distressed  her. 

Presently  Mary  resumed.  "  Long,  long  did  I  hope 
my  little  one  was  safely  sheltered  from  all  my  troubles 
in  the  dear  old  cloisters  of  Soissons,  and  that  it  was 
caution  in  my  good  aunt  the  abbess  that  prevented  my 
hearing  of  her ;  but  through  my  faithful  servants,  my 
Lord  Flemyng,  who  had  been  charged  to  speed  her  from 
Scotland,  at  length  let  me  know  that  the  ship  in  which 
she  sailed,  the  Bride  of  Dunbar,  had  been  never  heard 
of  more,  and  was  thought  to  have  been  cast  away  in  a 
tempest  that  raged  two  days  after  she  quitted  Dun- 
bar. And  I — I  shed  some  tears,  but  I  could  well 
believe  that  the  innocent  babe  had  been  safely  wel- 
comed among  the  saints,  and  I  could  not  grieve  that 
she  was,  as  I  thought,  spared  from  the  doom  that 
rests  upon  the  race  of  Stewart.  Till  one  week  back, 
I  gave  thanks  for  that  child  of  sorrow  as  cradled  in 
Paradise." 

Then  followed  a  pause,  and  then  Cis  said  in  a  low 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  185 

trembling  voice,  "And  it  was  from  the  wreck  of  the 
Bride  of  Dunbar  that  I  was  taken  ? " 

"  Thou  hast  said  it,  child  !  My  bairn,  my  bonnie 
bairn ! "  and  the  girl  was  absorbed  in  a  passionate 
embrace  and  strained  convulsively  to  a  bosom  which 
heaved  with  the  sobs  of  tempestuous  emotion,  and  the 
caresses  were  redoubled  upon  her  again  and  again  with 
increasing  fervour  that  almost  frightened  her. 

"  Speak  to  me  !  Speak  to  me  !  Let  me  hear  my 
child's  voice." 

"  Oh,  madam " 

"  Call  me  mother !  Never  have  I  heard  that  sound 
from  my  child's  lips.  I  have  borne  two  children,  two 
living  children,  only  to  be  stripped  of  both.  Speak, 
child — let  me  hear  thee." 

Cis  contrived  to  say  "Mother,  my  mother,"  but 
scarcely  with  effusion.  It  was  all  so  strange,  and  she 
could  not  help  feeling  as  if  Susan  were  the  mother 
she  knew  and  was  at  ease  with.  All  this  was  much 
too  like  a  dream,  from  which  she  longed  to  awake. 
And  there  was  Mrs.  Kennedy  too,  rising  up  and 
crying  quite  indignantly — "  Mother  indeed  !  Is  that  all 
thou  hast  to  say,  as  though  it  were  a  task  under  the 
rod,  when  thou  art  owned  for  her  own  bairn  by  the 
fairest  and  most  ill-used  queen  in  Christendom  ?  Out 
on  thee  !  Have  the  Southron  loons  chilled  thine  heart 
and  made  thee  no  leal  to  thine  ain  mother  that  hath 
hungered  for  thee  ?" 

The  angry  tones,  and  her  sense  of  her  own  short- 
comings, could  only  make  Cis  burst  into  tears. 

"  Hush,  hush,  nurse  !  thou  shalt  not  chide  my  new- 
found bairn.  She  will  learn  to  ken  us  better  in 
time  if  they  will  leave  her  with  us,"  said  Mary. 
"  There,  there  ;   greet  not  so  sair,  mine  ain.       I  ask 


186  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

thee  not  to  share  my  sorrows  and  my  woes.  That 
Heaven  forefend.  I  ask  thee  but  to  come  from  time 
to  time  and  cheer  my  nights,  and  lie  on  my  weary 
bosom  to  still  its  ache  and  yearning,  and  let  me  feel 
that  I  have  indeed  a  child." 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother !"  Cis  cried  again  in  a  stifled 
voice,  as  one  who  could  not  utter  her  feelings,  but  not 
in  the  cold  dry  tone  that  had  called  forth  Mrs. 
Kennedy's  wrath.  "  Pardon  me,  I  know  not — I 
cannot  say  what  I  would.  But  oh  !  I  would  do  any- 
thing for — for  your  Grace." 

"  All  that  I  would  ask  of  thee  is  to  hold  thy  peace 
and  keep  our  counsel.  Be  Cicely  Talbot  by  day  as 
ever.  Only  at  night  be  mine — my  child,  my  Bride, 
for  so  wast  thou  named  after  our  Scottish  patroness. 
It  was  a  relic  of  her  sandals  that  was  hung  about  thy 
neck,  and  her  ship  in  which  thou  diclst  sail ;  and  lo,  she 
heard  and  guarded  thee,  and  not  merely  saved  thee  from 
death,  but  provided  thee  a  happy  joyous  home  and 
well -nurtured  childhood.  We  must  render  her  our 
thanks,  my  child.      Beata  Brigitta,  ora  pro  nobis!' 

"  It  was  the  good  God  Almighty  who  saved  me, 
madam,"  said  Cis  bluntly. 

"  Alack !  I  forgot  that  yonder  good  lady  could 
not  fail  to  rear  thee  in  the  outer  darkness  of  her 
heresy ;  but  thou  wilt  come  back  to  us,  my  ain  wee 
thing  !  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  deny  Whose  Hand 
it  was  that  saved  thee,  but  it  was  at  the  blessed 
Bride's  intercession.  No  doubt  she  reserved  for  me, 
who  had  turned  to  her  in  my  distress,  this  precious 
consolation  !  But  I  will  not  vex  thy  little  heart  with 
debate  this  first  night.  To  be  mother  and  child  is 
enough  for  us.     What  art  thou  pondering?" 

"  Only,  madam,  who  was  it  that  told  your  Grace 
that  I  was  a  stranger  ? " 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  187 

"  The  marks,  bairnie,  the  marks,"  said  Mary. 
"  They  told  their  own  tale  to  good  Nurse  Jeanie  ;  ay, 
and  to  Gorion,  whom  we  blamed  for  his  cruelty  in 
branding  my  poor  little  lammie." 

"  Ah  !  but,"  said  Cicely,  "  did  not  yonder  woman 
with  the  beads  and  bracelets  bid  him  look  ? " 

If  it  had  been  lighter,  Cicely  would  have  seen  that 
the  Queen  was  not  pleased  at  the  inquiry,  but  she 
only  heard  the  answer  from  Jean's  bed,  "  Hout  no,  I 
wad  she  knew  nought  of  thae  brands.  How  should 
she?" 

"  Nay,"  said  Cicely,  "  she — no,  it  was  Tibbott  the 
huckster-woman  told  me  long  ago  that  I  was  not  what 
I  seemed,  and  that  I  came  from  the  north — I  cannot 
understand  !     Were  they  the  same  ?" 

"  The  bairn  kens  too  much,"  said  Jean.  "  Dinna 
ye  deave  her  Grace  with  your  speirings,  my  lammie. 
Ye'll  have  to  learn  to  keep  a  quiet  sough,  and  to  see 
mickle  ye  canna  understand  here." 

"  Silence  her  not,  good  nurse,"  said  the  Queen,  "  it 
imports  us  to  know  this  matter.  "What  saidst  thou  of 
Tibbott?" 

"  She  was  the  woman  who  got  Antony  Babington 
into  trouble,"  explained  Cicely.  "  I  deemed  her  a 
witch,  for  she  would  hint  strange  things  concerning  me, 
but  my  father  always  believed  she  was  a  kinsman  of 
his,  who  was  concerned  in  the  Rising  of  the  North, 
and  who,  he  said,  had  seen  me  brought  in  to  Hull 
from  the  wreck." 

"  Ay  ? "  said  the  Queen,  as  a  sign  to  her  to  con- 
tinue. 

"  And  meseemed,"  added  Cicely  timidly,  "  that  the 
strange  woman  at  Tideswell  who  talked  of  beads  and 
bracelets    minded    me    of    Tibbott,    though    she    was 


188  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

younger,  and  had  not  her  grizzled  brows ;  but  father 
says  that  cannot  be,  for  Master  Cuthbert  Langston  is 
beyond  seas  at  Paris." 

"  Soh !  that  is  well,"  returned  Mary,  in  a  tone  of 
relief.  "  See,  child.  That  Langston  of  whom  you 
speak  was  a  true  friend  of  mine.  He  has  done  much 
for  me  under  many  disguises,  and  at  the  time  of  thy 
birth  he  lived  as  a  merchant  at  Hull,  trading  with 
Scotland.  Thus  it  may  have  become  known  to  him 
that  the  babe  he  had  seen  rescued  from  the  wreck  was 
one  who  had  been  embarked  at  Dunbar.  But  no  more 
doth  he  know.  The  secret  of  thy  birth,  my  poor 
bairn,  was  entrusted  to  none  save  a  few  of  those  about 
me,  and  all  of  those  who  are  still  living  thou  hast 
already  seen.  Lord  Flemyng,  who  put  thee  on  board, 
believed  thee  the  child  of  James  Hepburn  of  Lillie- 
burn,  the  archer,  and  of  my  poor  Mary  Stewart,  a 
kinswoman  of  mine  ain ;  and  it  was  in  that  belief 
doubtless  that  he,  or  Tibbott,  as  thou  call'st  him,  would 
have  spoken  with  thee." 

"  But  the  woman  at  Tideswell,"  said  Cis,  who  was 
getting  bewildered — "  Diccon  said  that  she  spake  to 
Master  Gorion." 

"  That  did  she,  and  pointed  thee  out  to  him.  It  is 
true.  She  is  another  faithful  friend  of  mine,  and  no 
doubt  she  had  the  secret  from  him.  But  no  more  ques- 
tions, child.   Enough  that  we  sleep  in  each  other's  arms." 

It  was  a  strange  night.  Cis  was  more  conscious  of 
wonder,  excitement,  and  a  certain  exultation,  than  of 
actual  affection.  She  had  not  been  bred  up  so  as  to 
hunger  and  crave  for  love.  Indeed  she  had  been 
treated  with  more  tenderness  and  indulgence  than  was 
usual  with  people's  own  daughters,  and  her  adopted 
parents  had  absorbed  her  undoubting  love  and  respect. 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  189 

Queen  Mary's  fervent  caresses  were  at  least  as  em- 
barrassing as  they  were  gratifying,  because  she  did  not 
kuow  what  response  to  make,  and  the  novelty  and 
wonder  of  the  situation  were  absolutely  distressing. 

They  would  have  been  more  so  but  for  the  Queen's 
tact.  She  soon  saw  that  she  was  overwhelming  the 
girl,  and  that  time  must  be  given  for  her  to  become 
accustomed  to  the  idea.  So,  saying  tenderly  something 
about  rest,  she  lay  quietly,  leaving  Cis,  as  she  supposed, 
to  sleep.  This,  however,  was  impossible  to  the  girl, 
except  in  snatches  which  made  her  have  to  prove  to 
herself  again  and  again  that  it  was  not  all  a  dream. 
The  last  of  these  wakenings  was  by  daylight,  as  full  as 
the  heavy  curtains  would  admit,  and  she  looked  up  into 
a  face  that  was  watching  her  with  such  tender  wistful- 
ness  that  it  drew  from  her  perforce  the  word  "  Mother." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  the  tone  with  the  true  ring  in  it.  I 
thank  thee  and  I  bless  thee,  my  bairn,"  said  Mary, 
making  over  her  the  sign  of  the  cross,  at  which  the 
maiden  winced  as  at  an  incantation.  Then  she  added, 
"  My  little  maid,  we  must  be  up  and  stirring.  Mind, 
no  word  of  all  this.  Thou  art  Cicely  Talbot  by  day, 
as  ever,  and  only  my  child,  my  Bride,  mine  ain  wee 
thing,  my  princess  by  night.      Canst  keep  counsel  ?" 

"  Surely,  madam,"  said  Cis,  "  I  have  known  for 
five  years  that  I  was  a  foundling  on  the  wreck,  and 
I  never  uttered  a  word." 

Mary  smiled.  "  This  is  either  a  very  simple  child 
or  a  very  canny  one,"  she  said  to  Jean  Kennedy. 
"  Either  she  sees  no  boast  in  being  of  royal  blood,  or 
she  deems  that  to  have  the  mother  she  has  found  is 
worse  than  the  being  the  nameless  foundling." 

w  Oh  !  madam,  mother,  not  so !  I  meant  but  that 
I  had  held  my  tongue  when  I  had  something  to  tell !" 


190  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

"  Let  thy  secrecy  stand  thee  in  good  stead,  child," 
said  the  Queen.  "  Eemember  that  did  the  bruit  once 
get  abroad,  thou  wouldest  assuredly  be  torn  from 
me,  to  be  mewed  up  where  the  English  Queen  could 
hinder  thee  from  ever  wedding  living  man.  Ay,  and 
it  might  bring  the  head  of  thy  foster-father  to  the 
block,  if  he  were  thought  to  have  concealed  the  matter. 
I  fear  me  thou  art  too  young  for  such  a  weighty  secret." 

"  I  am  seventeen  years  old,  madam,"  returned  Cis, 
with  dignity ;  "  I  have  kept  the  other  secret  since  I 
was  twelve." 

"  Then  thou  wilt,  I  trust,  have  the  wisdom  not  to 
take  the  princess  on  thee,  nor  to  give  any  suspicion  that 
we  are  more  to  one  another  than  the  caged  bird  and 
the  bright  linnet  that  comes  to  sing  on  the  bars  of 
her  cage.  Only,  child,  thou  must  get  from  Master 
Talbot  these  tokens  that  I  hear  of.     Hast  seen  them  ? " 

"  Never,  madam ;  indeed  I  knew  not  of  them." 

"  I  need  them  not  to  know  thee  for  mine  own,  but 
it  is  not  well  that  they  should  be  in  stranger  hands. 
Thou  canst  say — But  hush,  we  must  be  mum  for  the 
present." 

For  it  became  necessary  to  admit  the  Queen's 
morning  draught  of  spiced  milk,  borne  in  by  one  of 
her  suite  who  had  to  remain  uninitiated ;  and  from 
that  moment  no  more  confidences  could  be  exchanged, 
until  the  time  that  Cis  had  to  leave  the  Queen's 
chamber  to  join  the  rest  of  the  household  in  the  daily 
prayers  offered  in  the  chapel.  Her  dress  and  hair  had, 
according  to  promise,  been  carefully  attended  to,  but 
she  was  only  finished  and  completed  just  in  time  to 
join  her  adopted  parents  on  the  way  down  the  stairs. 
She  knelt  in  the  hall  for  their  blessing — an  action  as 
regular  and  as  mechanical  as  the  morning  kiss  and 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  191 

greeting  now  are  between  parent  and  child ;  but  there 
was  something  in  her  face  that  made  Susan  say  to 
herself,  "  She  knows  all." 

They  could  not  speak  to  one  another  till  not  only 
matins  but  breakfast  were  ended,  and  then — after  the 
somewhat  solid  meal — the  ladies  had  to  put  on  their 
out-of-door  gear  to  attend  Queen  Mary  in  her  daily 
exercise.  The  dress  was  not  much,  high  summer  as  it 
was,  only  a  loose  veil  over  the  stiff  cap,  and  a  fan  in 
the  gloved  hand  to  act  as  parasol.  However  the 
retirement  gave  Cicely  an  interval  in  which  to  say, 
"  0  mother,  she  has  told  me,"  and  as  Susan  sat  holding 
out  her  arms,  the  adopted  child  threw  herself  on  her 
knees,  hiding  her  face  on  that  bosom  where  she  had 
found  comfort  all  her  life,  and  where,  her  emotion  at 
last  finding  full  outlet,  she  sobbed  without  knowing 
why  for  some  moments,  till  she  started  nervously  at 
the  entrance  of  Eichard,  saying,  "  The  Queen  is  asking 
for  you  both.      But  how  now  ?      Is  all  told  ?" 

"Ay,"  whispered  his  wife. 

"  So  !  And  why  these  tears  ?  Tell  me,  my  maid, 
was  not  she  good  to  thee  ?  Doth  she  seek  to  take  thee 
into  her  own  keeping  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  no,"  said  Cis,  still  kneeling  against  the 
motherly  knee  and  struggling  with  her  sobs.  "  No  one 
is  to  guess.  I  am  to  be  Cicely  Talbot  all  the  same, 
till  better  days  come  to  her." 

"  The  safer  and  the  happier  for  thee,  child.  Here 
are  two  honest  hearts  that  will  not  cast  thee  off,  even 
if,  as  I  suspect,  yonder  lady  would  fain  be  quit  of  thee." 

"  Oh  no !"  burst  from  Cicely,  then,  shocked  at 
having  committed  the  offence  of  interrupting  him,  she 
added,  "  Dear  sir,  I  crave  your  pardon,  but,  indeed,  she 
is  all  fondness  and  love." 


192  UNKNOWN  TO  IUSTOKY.  [CHAP. 

"  Then  what  means  this  passion  ?"  he  asked,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"  It  means  only  that  the  child's  senses  and  spirits 
are  overcome,"  said  Susan,  "  and  that  she  scarce  knows 
how  to  take  this  discovery.     Is  it  not  so,  sweetheart  ?" 

"  Oh,  sweet  mother,  yes  in  sooth.  You  will  ever 
be  mother  to  me  indeed  !" 

"Well  said,  little  maid!"  said  Eichard.  "Thou 
mightest  search  the  world  over  and  never  hap  upon 
such  another." 

"  But  she  oweth  duty  to  the  true  mother,"  said 
Susan,  with  her  hand  on  the  girl's  neck. 

"  We  wot  well  of  that,"  answered  her  husband,  "  and 
I  trow  the  first  is  to  be  secret." 

"  Yea,  sir,"  said  Cis,  recovering  herself,  "  none  save 
the  very  few  who  tended  her,  the  Queen  at  Lochleven, 
know  who  I  verily  am.  Such  as  were  aware  of  the 
babe  being  put  on  board  ship  at  Dunbar,  thought  me 
the  daughter  of  a  Scottish  archer,  a  Hepburn,  and 
she,  the  Queen  my  mother,  would  have  me  pass  as 
such  to  those  who  needs  must  know  I  am  not  myself." 

"  Trust  her  for  making  a  double  web  when  a  single 
one  would  do,"  muttered  Eichard,  but  so  that  the  girl 
could  not  hear. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  any  to  know  at  present,"  said 
Susan  hastily,  moved  perhaps  by  the  same  dislike  to 
deception ;  "  but  ah,  there's  that  fortune-telling  woman." 

Cis,  proud  of  her  secret  information,  here  explained 
that  Tibbott  was  indeed  Cuthbert  Langston,  but  not 
the  person  whose  password  was  "  beads  and  bracelets," 
and  that  both  alike  could  know  no  more  than  the  story 
of  the  Scottish  archer  and  his  young  wife ;  but  they 
were  here  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  Diccon, 
who  had  been  sent  by  my  Lord  himself  to  hasten  them. 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  193 

at  the  instance  of  the  Queen.  Master  Eichard  sent  the 
boy  on  with  his  mother,  saying  he  would  wait  and 
bring  Cis,  as  she  had  still  to  compose  her  hair  and  coif, 
which  had  become  somewhat  disordered. 

'•  My  maiden,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  I  have  somewhat 
to  say  unto  thee.  Thou  art  in  a  stranger  case  than 
any  woman  of  thy  years  between  the  four  seas ;  nay, 
it  may  be  in  Christendom.  It  is  woeful  hard  for  thee 
not  to  be  a  traitor  through  mere  lapse  of  tongue  to 
thine  own  mother,  or  else  to  thy  Queen.  So  I  tell 
thee  this  once  for  all.  See  as  little,  hear  as  little,  and, 
above  all,  say  as  little  as  thou  canst." 

"  Not  to  mother  ?"  asked  Cis. 

"  No,  not  to  her,  above  all  not  to  me ;  and,  my  girl, 
pray  God  daily  to  keep  thee  true  and  loyal,  and  guard 
thee  and  the  rest  of  us  from  snares.  Now  have  with 
thee.     We  may  tarry  no  longer  !" 

All  went  as  usual  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  so  that 
the  last  night  was  like  a  dream,  until  it  became  plain 
that  Cicely  was  again  to  share  the  royal  apartment. 

"  Ah,  I  have  thirsted  for  this  hour !"  said  Mary, 
holding  out  her  arms  and  drawing  her  daughter  to  her 
bosom.  "  Thou  art  a  canny  lassie,  mine  ain  wee  thing. 
Xone  could  have  guessed  from  thy  bearing  that  there 
was  aught  betwixt  us." 

"  In  sooth,  madam,"  said  the  girl,  "  it  seems  that  I 
am  two  maidens  in  one — Cis  Talbot  by  day,  and  Bride 
of  Scotland  by  night." 

"  That  is  well !  Be  all  Cis  Talbot  by  day.  When 
there  is  need  to  dissemble,  believe  in  thine  own  feign- 
ing. 'Tis  for  want  of  that  art  that  these  clumsy 
Southrons  make  themselves  but  a  laughing-stock  when- 
ever they  have  a  secret." 

Cis  did  not  understand  the  maxim,  and  submitted 
vol.  i.  o 


194  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

in  silence  to  some  caresses  before  she  said,  "  My  father 
will  give  your  Grace  the  tokens  when  we  return." 

"Thy  father,  child?" 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  madam,  it  comes  too  trip- 
pingly to  my  tongue  thus  to  term  Master  Talbot." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Thy  tongue  must  not  lose 
the  trick.  I  did  but  feel  a  moment's  fear  lest  thou 
hadst  not  been  guarded  enough  with  yonder  sailor 
man,  and  had  let  him  infer  over  much." 

"  0,  surely,  madam,  you  never  meant  me  to  with- 
hold the  truth  from  father  and  mother,"  cried  Cis,  in 
astonishment  and  dismay. 

"  Tush  !  silly  maid  !"  said  the  Queen,  really  angered. 
"  Father  and  mother,  forsooth  !  Now  shall  we  have  a 
fresh  coil !  I  should  have  known  better  than  to  have 
trusted  thy  word." 

"  Never  would  I  have  given  my  word  to  deceive 
them,"  cried  Cis,  hotly. 

"  Lassie  !"  exclaimed  Jean  Kennedy,  "ye  forget  to 
whom  ye  speak." 

"  Nay,"  said  Mary,  recovering  herself,  or  rather  see- 
ing how  best  to  punish,  "  'tis  the  poor  bairn  who  will 
be  the  sufferer.  Our  state  cannot  be  worse  than  it  is 
already,  save  that  I  shall  lose  her  presence,  but  it 
pities  me  to  think  of  her." 

"  The  secret  is  safe  with  them,"  repeated  Cis.  "  0 
madam,  none  are  to  be  trusted  like  them." 

"  Tell  me  not,"  said  the  Queen.  "  The  sailor's 
blundering  loyalty  will  not  suffer  him  to  hold  his 
tongue.  I  would  lay  my  two  lost  crowns  that  he  is 
down  on  his  honest  knees  before  my  Lord  craving  par- 
don for  having  unwittingly  fostered  one  of  the  viper 
brood.  Then,  via  !  off  goes  a  post — boots  and  spurs  are 
no  doubt  already  on — and  by  and  by  comes  Knollys, 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  195 

or  Carey,  or  Walsingham,  to  bear  off  the  perilous 
maiden  to  walk  in  Queen  Bess's  train,  and  have  her 
ears  boxed  when  her  Majesty  is  out  of  humour,  or 
when  she  gets  weary  of  dressing  St.  Katherine's  hair, 
and  weds  the  man  of  her  choice,  she  begins  to  taste 
of  prison  walls,  and  is  a  captive  for  the  rest  of  her 
days." 

Cis  was  reduced  to  tears,  and  assurances  that  if 
the  Queen  would  only  broach  the  subject  to  Master 
Richard,  she  would  perceive  that  he  regarded  as  sacred, 
secrets  that  were  not  his  own  ;  and  to  show  that  he 
meant  no  betrayal,  she  repeated  his  advice  as  to  seeing, 
hearing,  and  saying  as  little  as  possible. 

"  Wholesome  counsel !"  said  Mary.  "  Cheer  thee, 
lassie  mine,  I  will  credit  whatever  thou  wilt  of  this 
foster-father  of  thine  until  I  see  it  disproved ;  and  for 
the  good  lady  his  wife,  she  hath  more  inward,  if  less 
outwTard,  grace  than  any  dame  of  the  mastiff  brood 
which  guards  our  prison  court  !  I  should  have 
warned  thee  that  they  were  not  excepted  from  those 
who  may  deem  thee  my  poor  Mary's  child." 

Cicely  did  not  bethink  herself  that,  in  point  of  fact, 
she  had  not  communicated  her  royal  birth  to  her 
adopted  parents,  but  that  it  had  been  assumed  between 
them,  as,  indeed,  they  had  not  mentioned  their  previous 
knowledge.  Mary  presently  proceeded — "  After  all, 
we  may  not  have  to  lay  too  heavy  a  burden  on  their 
discretion.  Better  days  are  coming.  One  day  shall 
our  faithful  lieges  open  the  way  to  freedom  and  royalty, 
and  thou  shalt  have  whatever  boon  thou  wouldst  ask, 
even  were  it  pardon  for  my  Lady  Shrewsbury." 

"  There  is  one  question  I  would  fain  ask,  Madam 
mother :  Doth  my  real  father  yet  live  ?  The  Earl 
of " 


196  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Jean  Kennedy  made  a  sound  of  indignant  warning 
and  consternation,  cutting  her  short  in  dismay;  but 
the  Queen  gripped  her  hand  tightly  for  some  moments, 
and  then  said  :  "  'Tis  not  a  thing  to  speir  of  me,  child, 
of  me,  the  most  woefully  deceived  and  forlorn  of  ladies. 
Never  have  I  seen  nor  heard  from  him  since  the  part- 
ing at  Carbery  Hill,  when  he  left  me  to  bear  the 
brunt  !  Folk  say  that  he  took  ship  for  the  north. 
Believe  him  dead,  child.  So  were  it  best  for  us  both ; 
but  never  name  him  to  me  more." 

Jean  Kennedy  knew,  though  the  girl  did  not,  what 
these  words  conveyed.  If  Bothwell  no  longer  lived, 
there  would  be  no  need  to  declare  the  marriage  null 
and  void,  and  thus  sacrifice  his  daughter's  position  ; 
but  supposing  him  to  be  in  existence,  Mary  had 
already  shown  herself  resolved  to  cancel  the  very 
irregular  bonds  which  had  united  them, — a  most 
easy  matter  for  a  member  of  her  Church,  since  they 
had  been  married  by  a  Beformed  minister,  and  Both- 
well  had  a  living  wife  at  the  time.  Of  all  this  Cicely 
was  absolutely  ignorant,  and  was  soon  eagerly  listening 
as  the  Queen  spoke  of  her  hopes  of  speedy  deliverance. 
"  My  son,  my  Jamie,  is  working  for  me ! "  she  said. 
"  Nay,  dost  not  ken  what  is  in  view  for  me  ?" 

"No,  madam,  my  good  father,  Master  Bichard,  I 
mean,  never  tells  aught  that  he  hears  in  my  Lord's 
closet." 

"  That  is  to  assure  me  of  his  discretion,  I  trow ! 
But  this  is  no  secret !  No  treason  against  our  well- 
beloved  cousin  Bess  !  Oh  no  !  But  thy  brother,  mine 
ain  lad -bairn,  hath  come  to  years  of  manhood,  and 
hath  shaken  himself  free  of  the  fetters  of  Knox  and 
Morton  and  Buchanan,  and  all  their  clamjamfrie. 
The  Stewart  lion  hath  been  too  strong  for  them.     The 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  197 

puir  laddie  hath,  true  men  about  him,  at  last, —  the 
Master  of  Gray,  as  they  call  him,  and  Esme  Stewart  of 
Aubigny,  a  Scot  polished  as  the  French  know  how 
to  brighten  Scottish  steel.  Nor  will  the  lad  bide 
that  his  mother  should  pine  longer  in  durance.  He 
yearns  for  her,  and  hath  writ  to  her  and  to  Elizabeth 
offering  her  a  share  in  his  throne.  Poor  laddie,  what 
would  be  outrecuidance  in  another  is  but  duteousness 
in  him.  "What  will  he  say  when  we  bring  him  a 
sister  as  well  as  a  mother  ?  They  tell  me  that  he  is 
an  unco  scholar,  but  Uncouth  in  his  speech  and  man- 
ners, and  how  should  it  be  otherwise  with  no  woman 
near  him  save  my  old  Lady  Mar  ?  We  shall  have  to 
take  him  in  hand  to  teach  him  fair  courtesy." 

"  Sure  he  will  be  an  old  pupil !"  said  Cis,  "  if  he  be 
more  than  two  years  my  elder." 

"  Never  fear,  if  we  can  find  a  winsome  young  bride 
for  him,  trust  mother,  wife,  and  sister  for  moulding 
him  to  kingly  bearing.  We  will  make  our  home  in 
Stirling  or  Linlithgow,  we  two,  and  leave  Holyrood  to 
him.  I  have  seen  too  much  there  ever  to  thole  the 
sight  of  those  chambers,  far  less  of  the  High  Street  of 
Edinburgh ;  but  Stirling,  bonnie  Stirling,  ay,  I  would 
fain  ride  a  hawking  there  once  more.  Methinks  a 
Highland  breeze  would  put  life  and  youth  into  me 
again.  There's  a  little  chamber  opening  into  mine, 
where  I  will  bestow  thee,  my  Lady  Bride  of  Scot- 
land, for  so  long  as  I  may  keep  thee.  Ah  !  it  will  not 
be  for  long.  They  will  be  seeking  thee,  my  brave 
courtly  faithful  kindred  of  Lorraine,  and  Scottish 
nobles  and  English  lords  will  vie  for  this  little  hand 
of  thine,  where  courses  the  royal  blood  of  both  realms." 

"  So  please  you,  madam,  my  mother " 

"  Eh  ?     What  is  it  ?     Who  is  it  ?     I  deemed  that 


198  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAR 

yonder  honourable  dame  had  kept  thee  from  all  the 
frolics  and  foibles  of  the  poor  old  profession.  Fear 
not  to  tell  me,  little  one.  Eemember  thine  own 
mother  hath  a  heart  for  such  matters.  I  guess 
already.      C'etait  un  beau  gargon,  ce  pauvre  Antoine?' 

"  Oh  no,  madam,"  exclaimed  Cicely.  "  When  the 
sailor  Goatley  disclosed  that  I  was  no  child  of  my 
father's,  of  Master  Eichard  I  mean,  and  was  a  nameless 
creature  belonging  to  no  one,  Humfrey  Talbot  stood 
forth  and  pledged  himself  to  wed  me  so  soon  as  we 
were  old  enough." 

"And  what  said  the  squire  and  dame  ?" 

"  That  I  should  then  be  indeed  their  daughter." 

"And  hath  the  contract  gone  no  farther  ?" 

"No,  madam.  He  hath  been  to  the  North  with 
Captain  Frobisher,  and  since  that  to  the  Western  Main, 
and  we  look  for  his  return  even  now." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  this  pledge,  as  thou  callest 
it,  was  given  ?" 

"  Five  years  next  Lammas  tide,  madam." 

"  Was  it  by  ring  or  token  ?" 

"  No,  madam.  Our  mother  said  we  were  too  young, 
but  Humfrey  meant  it  with  all  his  heart." 

"  Humfrey !  That  was  the  urchin  who  must 
needs  traverse  the  correspondence  through  the  seeming 
Tibbott,  and  so  got  Antony  removed  from  about  us. 
A  stout  lubberly  Yorkshire  lad,  fed  on  beef  and  pud- 
ding, a  true  Talbot,  a  mere  English  bull-dog  who  will 
have  lost  all  the  little  breeding  he  had,  while  commit- 
ting spulzie  and  piracy  at  sea  on  his  Catholic  Majesty's 
ships.  Bah,  mon  enfant,  I  am  glad  of  it.  Had  he 
been  a  graceful  young  courtly  page  like  the  poor 
Antony,  it  might  have  been  a  little  difficult,  but  a 
great  English  carle  like  that,  whom  thou  hast  not  seen 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  199 

for  five  years — "     She  made  a  gesture  with  her  grace- 
ful hands  as  if  casting  away  a  piece  of  thistledown. 

"  Humfrey  is  my  very  good — my  very  good  brother, 
madam,"  cried  Cicely,  casting  about  for  words  to 
defend  him,  and  not  seizing  the  most  appropriate. 

"  Brother,  quotha  ?  Yea,  and  as  good  brother  he  shall 
be  to  thee,  and  welcome,  so  long  as  thou  art  Cis  Talbot 
by  day — but  no  more,  child.  Princesses  mate  not  with 
Yorkshire  esquires.  When  the  Lady  Bride  takes  her 
place  in  the  halls  of  her  forefathers,  she  will  be  the 
property  of  Scotland,  and  her  hand  will  be  sought  by 
princes.  Ah,  lassie  !  let  it  not  grieve  thee.  One  thing 
thy  mother  can  tell  thee  from  her  own  experience. 
There  is  more  bliss  in  mating  with  our  equals,  by  the 
choice  of  others,  than  in  following  our  own  wild  will. 
Thou  gazest  at  me  in  wonder,  but  verily  my  happy 
days  were  with  my  gentle  young  king — and  so  will 
thine  be,  I  pray  the  saints  happier  and  more  endur- 
ing than  ever  were  mine.  Nothing  has  ever  lasted 
with  me  but  captivity,  0  libera  me." 

And  in  the  murmured  repetition  the  mother  fell 
asleep,  and  the  daughter,  who  had  slumbered  little  the 
night  before,  could  not  but  likewise  drop  into  the 
world  of  soothing  oblivion,  though  with  a  dull  feeling 
of  aching  and  yearning  towards  the  friendly  kindly 
Humfrey,  yet  with  a  certain  exultation  in  the  fate 
that  seemed  to  be  carrying  her  on  inevitably  beyond 
his  reach. 


200  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  fCHAP. 


CHAPTEE  XYI. 

THE  PEAK  CAVERN. 

It  was  quite  true  that  at  this  period  Queen  Mary  had 
good  hope  of  liberation  in  the  most  satisfactory 
manner  possible — short  of  being  hailed  as  English 
Queen.  Negotiations  were  actually  on  foot  with  James 
VI.  and  Elizabeth  for  her  release.  James  had  written 
to  her  with  his  own  hand,  and  she  had  for  the  first 
time  consented  to  give  him  the  title  of  King  of  Scot- 
land. The  project  of  her  reigning  jointly  with  him 
had  been  mooted,  and  each  party  was  showing  how 
enormous  a  condescension  it  would  be  in  his  or  her 
eyes !  Thus  there  was  no  great  unlikelihood  that 
there  would  be  a  recognition  of  the  Lady  Bride,  and 
that  she  would  take  her  position  as  the  daughter  of  a 
queen.  Therefore,  when  Mary  contrived  to  speak  to 
Master  Bichard  Talbot  and  his  wife  in  private,  she 
was  able  to  thank  them  with  gracious  condescension 
for  the  care  they  had  bestowed  in  rearing  her  daughter, 
much  as  if  she  had  voluntarily  entrusted  the  maiden  to 
them,  saying  she  trusted  to  be  in  condition  to  reward 
them. 

Mistress  Susan's  heart  swelled  high  with  pain,  as 
though  she  had  been  thanked  for  her  care  of  Hum- 
frey  or  Diccon,  and  her  husband  answered,  "  We  seek 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERX.  201 

no  reward,  madam.  The  damsel  herself,  while  she 
was  ours,  was  reward  enough." 

"  And  I  must  still  entreat,  that  of  your  goodness 
you  will  let  her  remain  yours  for  a  little  longer,"  said 
Maty,  with  a  touch  of  imperious  grace,  "  until  this 
treaty  is  over,  and  I  am  free,  it  is  better  that  she  con- 
tinues to  pass  for  your  daughter.  The  child  herself 
has  sworn  to  me  by  her  great  gods,"  said  Mary,  smil- 
ing with  complimentary  grace,  "  that  you  will  pre- 
serve her  secret — nay,  she  becomes  a  little  fury  when 
I  express  my  fears  lest  you  should  have  scruples." 

"  No,  madam,  this  is  no  state  secret ;  such  as  1 
might  not  with  honour  conceal,"  returned  Eichard. 

"  There  is  true  English  sense  ! "  exclaimed  Mary. 
u  I  may  then  count  on  your  giving  my  daughter  the 
protection  of  your  name  and  your  home  until  I  can 
reclaim  her  and  place  her  in  her  true  position.  Yea, 
and  if  your  concealment  should  give  offence,  and  bring 
you  under  any  displeasure  of  my  good  sister,  those  who 
have  so  saved  and  tended  my  daughter  will  have  the 
first  claim  to  whatever  I  can  give  when  restored  to 
my  kingdom." 

"  We  are  much  beholden  for  your  Grace's  favour," 
said  Eichard,  somewhat  stiffly,  "  but  I  trust  never  to 
serve  any  land  save  mine  own." 

"  Ah  !  there  is  your  fi&retd"  cried  Mary.  "  Happy 
is  my  sister  to  have  subjects  with  such  a  point  of 
honour.  Happy  is  my  child  to  have  been  bred  up  by 
such  parents  ! " 

Eichard  bowed.  It  was  all  a  man  could  do  at  such 
a  speech,  and  Mary  further  added,  "  She  has  told  me 
to  what  bounds  went  your  goodness  to  her.  It  is  well 
that  you  acted  so  prudently  that  the  children's  hearts 
were  not  engaged ;  for,  as  we  all  know  but  too  well, 
royal  blood  should  have  no  heart." 


202  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  it,  madam/'  returned  Bich- 
ard,  and  there  for  the  time  the  conversation  ended. 
The  Queen  had  been  most  charming,  full  of  gratitude, 
and  perfectly  reasonable  in  her  requests,  and  yet  there 
was  some  flaw  in  the  gratification  of  both,  even  while 
neither  thought  the  disappointment  would  go  very 
hard  with  their  son.  Ei chard  could  never  divest  him- 
self of  the  instinctive  prejudice  with  which  soft  words 
inspire  men  of  his  nature,  and  Susan's  maternal  heart 
was  all  in  revolt  against  the  inevitable,  not  merely 
grieving  over  the  wrench  to  her  affections,  but  full  of 
forebodings  and  misgivings  as  to  the  future  welfare  of 
her  adopted  child.  Even  if  the  brightest  hopes  should 
be  fulfilled ;  the  destiny  of  a  Scottish  princess  did  not 
seem  to  Southern  eyes  very  brilliant  at  the  best,  and 
whether  poor  Bride  Hepburn  might  be  owned  as  a 
princess  at  all  was  a  doubtful  matter,  since,  if  her 
father  lived  (and  he  had  certainly  been  living  in  1577 
in  Norway),  both  the  Queen  and  the  Scottish  people 
would  be  agreed  in  repudiating  the  marriage.  Any 
way,  Susan  saw  every  reason  to  fear  for  the  happi- 
ness and  the  religion  alike  of  the  child  to  whom  she 
had  given  a  mother's  love.  Under  her  grave,  self- 
contained  placid  demeanour,  perhaps  Dame  Susan  was 
the  most  dejected  of  those  at  Buxton.  The  captive 
Queen  had  her  hopes  of  freedom  and  her  newly  found 
daughter,  who  was  as  yet  only  a  pleasure,  and  not  an 
encumbrance  to  her,  the  Earl  had  been  assured  that 
his  wife's  slanders  had  been  forgotten.  He  was 
secure  of  his  sovereign's  favour,  and  permitted  to  see 
the  term  of  his  weary  jailorship,  and  thus  there  was 
an  unusual  liveliness  and  cheerfulness  about  the  whole 
sojourn  at  Buxton,  where,  indeed,  there  was  always 
more  or  less  of  a  holiday  time. 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  203 

To  Cis  herself,  her  nights  were  like  a  perpetual 
fairy  tale,  and  so  indeed  were  all  times  when  she  was 
alone  with  the  initiated,  who  were  indeed  all  those 
original  members  of  her  mother's  suite  who  had  known 
of  her  birth  at  Lochleven,  people  who  had  kept  too 
many  perilous  secrets  not  to  be  safely  entrusted  with 
this  one,  and  whose  finished  habits  of  caution,  in  a 
moment,  on  the  approach  of  a  stranger,  would  change 
their  manner  from  the  deferential  courtesy  due  to  their 
princess,  to  the  good-natured  civility  of  court  ladies  to 
little  Cicely  Talbot. 

Dame  Susan  had  been  gratified  at  first  by  the  young 
girl's  sincere  assurances  of  unchanging  affection  and 
allegiance,  and,  in  truth,  Cis  had  clung  the  most  to  her 
with  the  confidence  of  a  whole  life's  daughterhood,  but 
as  the  days  went  on,  and  every  caress  and  token  of 
affection  imaginable  was  lavished  upon  the  maiden, 
every  splendid  augury  held  out  to  her  of  the  future, 
and  every  story  of  the  past  detailed  the  charms  of 
Mary's  court  life  in  France,  seen  through  the  vista  of 
nearly  twenty  sadly  contrasted  years,  it  was  in  the 
very  nature  of  things  that  Cis  should  regard  the  time 
spent  perforce  with  Mistress  Talbot  much  as  a  petted 
child  views  its  return  to  the  strict  nurse  or  governess 
from  the  delights  of  the  drawing-room.  She  liked  to 
dazzle  the  homely  housewife  with  the  wonderful  tales 
of  French  gaieties,  or  the  splendid  castles  in  the  air  she 
had  heard  in  the  Queen's  rooms,  but  she  resented  the 
doubt  and  disapproval  they  sometimes  excited  ;  she  was 
petulant  and  fractious  at  any  exercise  of  authority 
from  her  foster-mother,  and  once  or  twice  went  near 
to  betray  herself  by  lapsing  into  a  tone  towards  her 
which  would  have  brought  down  severe  personal 
chastisement  on  any  real  daughter  even  of  seventeen. 


204  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

It  was  well  that  the  Countess  and  her  sharp-eyed 
daughter  Mary  were  out  of  sight,  as  the  sight  of  such 
"  cockering  of  a  malapert  maiden  "  would  have  led  to 
interference  that  might  have  brought  matters  to  ex- 
tremity. Yet,  with  all  the  forbearance  thus  exercised, 
Susan  could  not  but  feel  that  the  girl's  love  was  being 
weaned  from  her ;  and,  after  all,  how  could  she  com- 
plain, since  it  was  by  the  true  mother  ?  If  only  she 
could  have  hoped  it  was  for  the  dear  child's  good,  it 
would  not  have  been  so  hard !  But  the  trial  was  a 
bitter  one,  and  not  even  her  husband  guessed  how 
bitter  it  was. 

The  Queen  meantime  improved  daily  in  health  and 
vigour  in  the  splendid  summer  weather.  The  rheu- 
matism had  quitted  her,  and  she  daily  rode  and  played 
at  Trowle  Madame  for  hours  after  supper  in  the  long 
bright  July  evenings.  Cis,  whose  shoulder  was  quite 
well,  played  with  great  delight  on  the  greensward, 
where  one  evening  she  made  acquaintance  with  a  young 
esquire  and  his  sisters  from  the  neighbourhood,  who 
had  come  with  their  father  to  pay  their  respects  to  my 
Lord  Earl,  as  the  head  of  all  Hallamshire.  The  Earl, 
though  it  was  not  quite  according  to  the  recent  stricter 
rules,  ventured  to  invite  them  to  stay  to  sup  with  the 
household,  and  afterwards  they  came  out  with  the  rest 
upon  the  lawn. 

Cis  was  walking  between  the  young  lad  and  his 
sister,  laughing  and  talking  with  much  animation,  for 
she  had  not  for  some  time  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  free 
intercourse  with  any  of  her  fellow-denizens  in  the 
happy  land  of  youth. 

Dame  Susan  watched  her  with  some  uneasiness,  and 
presently  saw  her  taking  them  where  she  herself  was 
privileged  to  go,  but  strangers  were  never  permitted 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVEEX.  205 

to  approach,  on  the  Trowle  Madame  sward  reserved 
for  the  Queen,  on  which  she  was  even  now  entering. 

"Cicely!"  she  called,  but  the  young  lady  either 
did  not  or  would  not  hear,  and  she  was  obliged  to  walk 
hastily  forward,  meet  the  party,  and  with  courteous 
excuses  turn  them  back  from  the  forbidden  ground. 
They  submitted  at  once,  apologising,  but  Cis,  with  a 
red  spot  on  her  cheek,  cried,  "  The  Queen  would  take 
no  offence." 

"  That  is  not  the  matter  in  point,  Cicely,"  said 
Dame  Susan  gravely.  "  Master  and  Mistress  Eyre 
understand  that  we  are  bound  to  obedience  to  the  Earl." 

Master  Eyre,  a  well-bred  young  gentleman,  made 
reply  that  he  well  knew  that  no  discourtesy  was 
intended,  but  Cis  pouted  and  muttered,  evidently  to 
the  extreme  amazement  of  Mistress  Alice  Eyre ;  and 
Dame  Susan,  to  divert  her  attention,  began  to  ask 
about  the  length  of  their  ride,  and  the  way  to  their 
home. 

Cis's  ill  humour  never  lasted  long,  and  she  suddenly 
broke  in,  "  0  mother,  Master  Eyre  saith  there  is  a 
marvellous  cavern  near  his  father's  house,  all  full  of 
pendants  from  the  roof  like  a  minster,  and  great 
sheeted  tables  and  statues  standing  up,  all  grand  and 
ghostly  on  the  floor,  far  better  than  in  this  Pool's  Hole. 
He  says  his  father  will  have  it  lighted  up  if  we  will 
ride  over  and  see  it." 

"  AVe  are  much  beholden  to  Master  Eyre,"  said 
Susan,  but  Cis  read  refusal  in  her  tone,  and  began  to 
urge  her  to  consent. 

"  It  must  be  as  my  husband  wills,"  was  the  grave 
answer,  and  at  the  same  time,  courteously,  but  very 
decidedly,  she  bade  the  strangers  farewell,  and  made 
her  daughter  do  the  same,  though  Cis  was  inclined  to 


206  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

resistance,  and  in  a  somewhat  defiant  tone  added,  "  I 
shall  not  forget  your  promise,  sir.  I  long  to  see  the 
cave." 

"  Child,  child,"  entreated  Susan,  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  of  hearing,  "  be  on  thy  guard.  Thou  wilt 
betray  thyself  by  such  conduct  towards  me." 

"  But,  mother,  they  did  so  long  to  see  the  Queen, 
and  there  would  have  been  no  harm  in  it.  They  are 
well  affected,  and  the  young  gentleman  is  a  friend  of 
poor  Master  Babington." 

"  Nay,  Cis,  that  is  further  cause  that  I  should  not 
let  them  pass  onward.  I  marvel  not  at  thee,  my  maid, 
but  thou  and  thy  mother  queen  must  bear  in  mind 
that  while  thou  passest  for  our  daughter,  and  hast 
trust  placed  in  thee,  thou  must  do  nothing  to  forfeit  it 

or  bring  thy  fa ,  Master  Eichard   I  mean,   into 

trouble." 

"  I  meant  no  harm,"  said  Cis,  rather  crossly. 

"  Thou  didst  not,  but  harm  may  be  done  by  such  as 
mean  it  the  least." 

"  Only,  mother,  sweet  mother,"  cried  the  girl,  child- 
like, set  upon  her  pleasure,  "  I  will  be  as  good  as  can 
be.  I  will  transgress  in  nought  if  only  thou  wilt  get 
my  father  to  take  me  to  see  Master  Eyre's  cavern." 

She  was  altogether  the  home  daughter  again  in  her 
eagerness,  entreating  and  promising  by  turns  with  the 
eager  curiosity  of  a  young  girl  bent  on  an  expedition, 
but  Eichard  was  not  to  be  prevailed  on.  He  had 
little  or  no  acquaintance  with  the  Eyre  family,  and  to 
let  them  go  to  the  cost  and  trouble  of  lighting  up  the 
cavern  for  the  young  lady's  amusement  would  be  like 
the  encouragement  of  a  possible  suit,  which  would 
have  been  a  most  inconvenient  matter.  Eichard  did 
not  believe  the  young  gentleman  had  warrant  from  his 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERX.  207 

father  in  giving  this  invitation,  and  if  he  had,  that  was 
the  more  reason  for  declining  it.  The  Eyres,  then  hold- 
ing the  royal  castle  of  the  Peak,  were  suspected  of  being 
secretly  Eoman  Catholics,  and  though  the  Earl  could 
not  avoid  hospitably  bidding  them  to  supper,  the  less 
any  Talbot  had  to  do  with  them  the  better,  and  for  the 
present  Cis  must  be  contented  to  be  reckoned  as  one. 

So  she  had  to  put  up  with  her  disappointment,  and 
she  did  not  do  so  with  as  good  a  grace  as  she  would 
have  shown  a  year  ago.  Xay,  she  carried  it  to  Queen 
Mary,  who  at  night  heard  her  gorgeous  description  of 
the  wonders  of  the  cavern,  which  grew  in  her  estima- 
tion in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  of  seeing  them,  and 
sympathised  with  her  disappointment  at  the  denial. 

"  Xay,  thou  shalt  not  be  balked,"  said  Mary,  with 
the  old  queenly  habit  of  having  her  own  way. 
"  Prisoner  as  I  am,  I  will  accomplish  this.  My 
daughter  shall  have  her  wish." 

So  on  the  ensuing  morning,  when  the  Earl  came  to 
pay  his  respects,  Mary  assailed  him  with,  "  There  is  a 
marvellous  cavern  in  these  parts,  my  Lord,  of  which  I 
hear  great  wonders." 

"  Does  your  grace  mean  Pool's  Hole  ?" 

"  Xay,  nay,  my  Lord.  Have  I  not  been  conducted 
through  it  by  Dr.  Jones,  and  there  writ  my  name  for 
his  delectation  ?  This  is,  I  hear,  as  a  palace  compared 
therewith." 

"  The  Peak  Cavern,  Madam  !"  said  Lord  Shrewsbury, 
with  the  distaste  of  middle  age  for  underground  expedi- 
tions, "  is  four  leagues  hence,  and  a  dark,  damp,  doleful 
den,  most  noxious  for  your  Grace's  rheumatism." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  it,  my  Lord  ?" 

"  No,  verily,"  returned  his  lordship  with  a  shudder. 

"  Then  you  will  be  edified  yourself,  my  Lord,  if  you 


208  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

will  do  me  the  grace  to  escort  me  thither/'  said  Mary, 
with  the  imperious  suavity  she  well  knew  how  to 
adopt. 

"  Madam,  madam,"  cried  the  unfortunate  Earl,  "  do 
but  consult  your  physicians.  They  will  tell  you  that  all* 
the  benefits  of  the  Buxton  waters  will  be  annulled  by 
an  hour  in  yonder  subterranean  hole." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it  from  several  of  my  suite,"  re- 
plied Mary,  "  and  they  tell  me  that  the  work  of  nature 
on  the  lime-droppings  is  so  marvellous  that  I  shall  not 
rest  without  a  sight  of  it.  Many  have  been  instant 
with  me  to  go  and  behold  the  wondrous  place." 

This  was  not  untrue,  but  she  had  never  thought  of 
gratifying  them  in  her  many  previous  visits  to  Buxton. 
The  Earl  found  himself  obliged  either  to  utter  a  harsh 
and  unreasonable  refusal,  or  to  organise  an  expedition 
which  he  personally  disliked  extremely,  and  moreover 
distrusted,  for  he  did  not  in  the  least  believe  that 
Queen  Mary  would  be  so  set  upon  gratifying  her  curi- 
osity about  stalactites  without  some  ulterior  motive. 
He  tried  to  set  on  Dr.  Jones  to  persuade  Messieurs 
Gorion  and  Bourgoin,  her  medical  attendants,  that 
the  cave  would  be  fatal  to  her  rheumatism,  but  it  so 
happened  that  the  Peak  Cavern  was  Dr.  Jones's 
favourite  lion,  the  very  pride  of  his  heart.  Pool's  Hole 
was  dear  to  him,  but  the  Peak  Cave  was  far  more 
precious,  and  the  very  idea  of  the  Queen  of  Scots 
honouring  it  with  her  presence,  and  leaving  behind  her 
the  flavour  of  her  name,  was  so  exhilarating  to  the 
little  man  that  if  the  place  had  been  ten  times  more 
damp  he  would  have  vouched  for  its  salubrity.  More- 
over, he  undertook  that  fumigations  of  fragrant  woods 
should  remove  all  peril  of  noxious  exhalations,  so  that 
the    Earl  was   obliged  to   give    his    orders   that  Mr. 


xvl]  the  peak  cavern.  209 

Eyre  should  be  requested  to  light  up  the  cave,  and 
heartily  did  he  grumble  and  pour  forth  his  suspicions 
and  annoyance  to  his  cousin  Eichard. 

"  And  I,"  said  the  good  sailor,  "  felt  it  hard  not  to 
be  able  to  tell  him  that  all  was  for  the  freak  of  a  silly 
damsel." 

Mistress  Cicely  laughed  a  little  triumphantly.  It 
was  something  like  being  a  Queen's  daughter  to  have 
been  the  cause  of  making  my  Lord  himself  bestir  him- 
self against  his  will.  She  had  her  own  way,  and 
might  well  be  good  -  humoured.  "  Come,  dear  sir 
father,"  she  said,  coming  up  to  him  in  a  coaxing, 
patronising  way,  which  once  would  have  been  quite 
alien  to  them  both,  "  be  not  angered.  You  know  no- 
body means  treason  !  And,  after  all,  'tis  not  I  but 
you  that  are  the  cause  of  all  the  turmoil.  If  you 
would  but  have  ridden  soberly  out  with  your  poor 
little  Cis,  there  would  have  been  no  coil,  but  my  Lord 
might  have  paced  stately  and  slow  up  and  down  the 
terrace-walk  undisturbed." 

"  Ah,  child,  child  ! "  said  Susan,  vexed,  though  her 
husband  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  arch  drollery  of 
the  girl's  tone  and  manner,  "  do  not  thou  learn  light 
mockery  of  all  that  should  be  honoured." 

"  I  am  not  bound  to  honour  the  Earl,"  said  Cis, 
proudly. 

"  Hush,  hush  ! "  said  Eichard.  "  I  have  allowed 
thee  unchecked  too  long,  maiden.  Wert  thou  ten 
times  what  thou  art,  it  would  not  give  thee  the  right 
to  mock  at  the  gray-haired,  highly-trusted  noble,  the 
head  of  the  name  thou  dost  bear." 

"  And  the  torment  of  her  whom  I  am  most  bound 
to  love,"  broke  from  Cicely  petulantly. 

Eichard's  response  to  this  sally  was  to  rise  up, 
VOL.  i.  p 


210  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

make  the  young  lady  the  lowest  possible  reverence, 
with  extreme  and  displeased  gravity,  and  then  to  quit 
the  room.  It  brought  the  girl  to  her  bearings  at  once. 
"  Oh,  mother,  mother,  how  have  I  displeased  him  ?" 

"  I  trow  thou  canst  not  help  it,  child,"  said  Susan, 
sadly  ;  "  but  it  is  hard  that  thou  shouldst  bring  home 
to  us  how  thine  heart  and  thine  obedience  are  parted 
from  us." 

The  maiden  was  in  a  passion  of  tears  at  once, 
vowing  that  she  meant  no  such  thing,  that  she  loved 
and  obeyed  them  as  much  as  ever,  and  that  if  only 
her  father  would  forgive  her  she  would  never  wish  to 
go  near  the  cavern.  She  would  beg  the  Queen  to  give 
up  the  plan  at  once,  if  only  Sir  Pdchard  would  be  her 
good  father  as  before. 

Susan  looked  at  her  sadly  and  tenderly,  but  smiled, 
and  said  that  what  had  been  lightly  begun  could  not 
now  be  dropped,  and  that  she  trusted  Cis  would  be 
happy  in  the  day's  enjoyment,  and  remember  to  be- 
have herself  as  a  discreet  maiden.  "  For  truly,"  said 
she,  "  so  far  from  discretion  being  to  be  despised  by 
Queen's  daughters,  the  higher  the  estate  the  greater  the 
need  thereof." 

This  little  breeze  did  not  prevent  Cicely  from  setting 
off  in  high  spirits,  as  she  rode  near  the  Queen,  who 
declared  that  she  wanted  to  enjoy  through  the  merry 
maiden,  and  who  was  herself  in  a  gay  and  joyous  mood, 
believing  that  the  term  of  her  captivity  was  in  sight, 
delighted  with  her  daughter,  exhilarated  by  the  fresh 
breezes  and  rapid  motion,  and  so  mirthful  that  she 
could  not  help  teasing  and  bantering  the  Earl  a  little, 
though  all  in  the  way  of  good-humoured  grace. 

The  ride  was  long,  about  eight  miles  ;  but  though  the 
Peak  Castle  was  a  royal  one,  the  Earl  preferred  not  to 


XVI.]  THE  TEAK  CAVERN.  211 

enter  it,  but,  according  to  previous  arrangement,  caused 
the  company  to  dismount  in  the  valley,  or  rather  ravine, 
which  terminates  in  the  cavern,  where  a  repast  was 
spread  on  the  grass.  It  was  a  wonderful  place,  cool  and 
refreshing,  for  the  huge  rocks  on  either  side  cast  a  deep 
shadow,  seldom  pierced  by  the  rays  of  the  sun.  Lofty, 
solemn,  and  rich  in  dark  reds  and  purples,  rose  the  walls 
of  rock,  here  and  there  softened  by  tapestry  of  ivy  or 
projecting  bushes  of  sycamore,  mountain  ash,  or  with 
fruit  already  assuming  its  brilliant  tints,  and  jack- 
daws flying  in  and  out  of  their  holes  above.  Deep 
beds  of  rich  ferns  clothed  the  lower  slopes,  and  sheets 
of  that  delicate  flower,  the  enchanter's  nightshade, 
reared  its  white  blossoms  down  to  the  bank  of  a  little 
clear  stream  that  came  flowing  from  out  of  the  mighty 
yawning  arch  of  the  cavern,  while  above  the  precipice 
rose  sheer  the  keep  of  Peak  Castle. 

The  banquet  was  gracefully  arranged  to  suit  the 
scene,  and  comprised,  besides  more  solid  viands,  large 
bowls  of  milk,  with  strawberries  or  cranberries  floating 
in  them.  Mr.  Eyre,  the  keeper  of  the  castle,  and  his 
daughter  did  the  honours,  while  his  son  superintended 
the  lighting  and  fumigation  of  the  cavern,  assisted,  if 
not  directed  by  Dr.  Jones,  whose  short  black  cloak  and 
gold-headed  cane  were  to  be  seen  almost  everywhere 
at  once. 

Presently  clouds  of  smoke  began  to  issue  from  the 
vast  archway  that  closed  the  ravine.  "  Beware,  my 
maidens,"  said  the  Queen,  merrily,  "  we  have  roused 
the  dragon  in  his  den,  and  we  shall  see  him  come  forth 
anon,  curling  his  tail  and  belching  flame." 

"  With  a  marvellous  stomach  for  a  dainty  maiden 
or  two,"  added  Gilbert  Curll,  falling  into  her  humour. 

"  Hark  !     Good  lack  ! "    cried  the  Queen,  with  an 


212  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

affectation  of  terror,  as  a  most  extraordinary  noise  pro- 
ceeded from  the  bowels  of  the  cavern,  making  Cis  start 
and  Marie  de  Courcelles  give  a  genuine  shriek. 

"  Your  Majesty  is  pleased  to  be  merry,"  said  the 
Earl,  ponderously.  "  The  sound  is  only  the  coughing 
of  the  torchbearers  from  the  damp  whereof  I  warned 
your  Majesty." 

"  By  my  faith,"  said  Mary,  "  I  believe  my  Lord 
Earl  himself  fears  the  monster  of  the  cavern,  to  whom 
he  gives  the  name  of  Damp.  Dread  nothing,  my 
Lord  ;  the  valorous  knight  Sir  Jones  is  even  now  in 
conflict  with  the  foul  worm,  as  those  cries  assure  me, 
being  in  fact  caused  by  his  fumigations." 

The  jest  was  duly  received,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
laughter,  young  Eyre  came  forward,  bowing  low,  and 
holding  his  jewelled  hat  in  his  hand,  while  his  eyes 
betrayed  that  he  had  recently  been  sneezing  violently. 

"  So  please  your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "  the  odour  hath 
rolled  away,  and  all  is  ready  if  you  will  vouchsafe  to 
accept  my  poor  guidance." 

"  How  say  you,  my  Lord  ?"  said  Mary.  u  Will  you 
dare  the  lair  of  the  conquered  foe,  or  fear  you  to  be 
pinched  with  aches  and  pains  by  his  lurking  hob- 
goblins ?     If  so,  we  dispense  with  your  attendance." 

"  Your  Majesty  knows  that  where  she  goes  thither 
I  am  bound  to  attend  her,"  said  the  rueful  Earl. 

"  Even  into  the  abyss  !  "  said  Mary.  "  Valiantly 
spoken,  for  have  not  Ariosto  and  his  fellows  sung  of 
captive  princesses  for  whom  every  cave  held  an  enchanter 
who  could  spirit  them  away  into  vapour  thin  as  air,  and 
leave  their  guardians  questing  in  vain  for  them  ? " 

"  Your  Majesty  jests  with  edged  tools,"  sighed  the 
Earl. 

Old  Mr.  Evre  was  too  feeble  to  act  as  exhibitor  of 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  213 

the  cave,  and  his  son  was  deputed  to  lead  the  Queen 
forward.  This  was,  of  course,  Lord  Shrewsbury's  privi- 
lege, but  he  was  in  truth  beholden  to  her  fingers  for 
aid,  as  she  walked  eagerly  forward,  now  and  then 
accepting  a  little  help  from  John  Eyre,  but  in  general 
sure-footed  and  exploring  eagerly  by  the  light  of  the 
numerous  torches  held  by  yeomen  in  the  Eyre  livery, 
one  of  whom  was  stationed  wherever  there  was  a 
dangerous  pass  or  a  freak  of  nature  worth  studying. 

The  magnificent  vaulted  roof  grew  lower,  and  pre- 
sently it  became  necessary  to  descend  a  staircase,  which 
led  to  a  deep  hollow  chamber,  shaped  like  a  bell,  and 
echoing  like  one.  A  pool  of  intensely  black  water 
filled  it,  reflecting  the  lights  on  its  surface,  that  only 
enhanced  its  darkness,  while  there  moved  on  a  mys- 
terious flat-bottomed  boat,  breaking  them  into  shim- 
mering sparks,  and  John  Eyre  intimated  that  the 
visitors  must  lie  down  flat  in  it  to  be  ferried  one  by 
one  over  a  space  of  about  fourteen  yards. 

"  Your  Majesty  will  surely  not  attempt  it,"  said  the 
Earl,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Wherefore  not  ?  It  is  but  a  foretaste  of  Charon's 
boat ! "  said  Mary,  who  was  one  of  those  people  whose 
spirit  of  enterprise  rises  with  the  occasion,  and  she 
murmured  to  Mary  Seaton  the  line  of  Dante — 

"  Quando  noi  fermerem  li  nostri  passi 
Su  la  triste  riviera  a'  Acheronte." 

"  "Will  your  Majesty  enter  ? "  asked  John  Eyre. 
"  Dr.  Jones  and  some  gentlemen  wait  on  the  other  side 
to  receive  you." 

"  Some  gentlemen  ?"  repeated  Mary.  "  You  are  sure 
they  are  not  Minos  and  Ehadamanthus,  sir  ?  My 
obolus  is  ready ;  shall  I  put  it  in  my  mouth  ? " 

"  Nay,  madam,  pardon  me,"  said  the  Earl,  spurred 


214  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

by  a  miserable  sense  of  bis  duties ;  "  since  you  will 
thus  venture,  far  be  it  from  me  to  let  you  pass  over 
until  I  have  reached  the  other  side  to  see  that  it  is  fit 
for  your  Majesty  ! " 

"Even  as  you  will,  most  devoted  cavalier,"  said 
Mary,  drawing  back ;  "  we  will  be  content  to  play  the 
part  of  the  pale  ghosts  of  the  unburied  dead  a  little 
longer.  See,  Mary,  the  boat  sinks  down  with  him  and 
his  mortal  flesh  !  We  shall  have  Charon  complaining 
of  him  anon." 

"  Your  Highness  gars  my  flesh  grue,"  was  the 
answer  of  her  faithful  Mary. 

"  Ah,  ma  mie  !  we  have  not  left  all  hope  behind. 
We  can  afford  to  smile  at  the  doleful  knight,  ferried 
o'er  on  his  back,  in  duteous  and  loyal  submission  to 
his  task  mistress.  Child,  Cicely,  where  art  thou  ? 
Art  afraid  to  dare  the  black  river  ? " 

"  No,  madam,  not  with  you  on  the  other  side,  and 
my  father  to  follow  me." 

"  Well  said.  Let  the  maiden  follow  next  after  me. 
Or  mayhap  Master  Eyre  should  come  next,  then  the 
young  lady.  For  you,  my  ladies,  and  you,  good  sirs, 
you  are  free  to  follow  or  not,  as  the  fancy  strikes  you. 
So — here  is  Charon  once  more — must  I  lie  down  ? " 

"Ay,  madam,"  said  Eyre,  "if  you  would  not  strike 
your  head  against  yonder  projecting  rock." 

Mary  lay  down,  her  cloak  drawn  about  her,  and 
saying,  "  Now  then,  for  Acheron.  Ah  !  would  that  it 
were  Lethe ! " 

"Her  Grace  saith  well,"  muttered  faithful  Jean 
Kennedy,  unversed  in  classic  lore,  "  would  that  we 
were  once  more  at  bonnie  Leith.  Soft  there  now,  'tis 
you  that  follow  her  next,  my  fail'  mistress." 

Cicely,  not  without  trepidation,  obeyed,  laid  herself 


XVLJ  THE  PEAK  CAYEILW  215 

Hat,  and  was  soon  midway,  feeling  the  passage  so  grim 
and  awful,  that  she  could  think  of  nothing  but  the 
dark  passages  of  the  grave,  and  was  shuddering  all 
over,  when  she  was  helped  out  on  the  other  side  by  the 
Queen's  own  hand. 

Some  of  those  in  the  rear  did  not  seem  to  be  simi- 
larly affected,  or  else  braved  their  feelings  of  awe  by 
shouts  and  songs,  which  echoed  fearfully  through  the 
subterranean  vaults.  Indeed  Diccon,  following  the 
example  of  one  or  two  young  pages  and  grooms  of 
the  Earl's,  began  to  get  so  daring  and  wild  in  the 
strange  scene,  that  his  father  became  anxious,  and 
tarried  for  him  on  the  other  side,  in  the  dread  of  his 
wandering  away  and  getting  lost,  or  falling  into  some 
of  the  fearful  dark  rivers  that  could  be  heard — not  seen 
— rushing  along.  By  this  means,  Master  Pdchard  was 
entirely  separated  from  Cicely,  to  whom,  before  crossing 
the  water,  he  had  been  watchfully  attending,  but  he 
knew  her  to  be  with  the  Queen  and  her  ladies,  and  con- 
sidered her  natural  timidity  the  best  safeguard  against 
the  chief  peril  of  the  cave,  namely,  wandering  away. 

Cicely  did,  however,  miss  his  care,  for  the  Queen 
could  not  but  be  engrossed  by  her  various  cicerones 
and  attendants,  and  it  was  no  one's  especial  business 
to  look  after  the  young  girl  over  the  rough  descent  to 
the  dripping  well  called  Eoger  Eain's  House,  and  the 
grand  cathedral-like  gallery,  with  splendid  pillars  of 
stalagmite,  and  pendants  above.  By  the  time  the 
steps  beyond  were  reached,  a  toilsome  descent,  the 
Queen  had  had  enough  of  the  expedition,  and  declined 
to  go  any  farther,  but  she  good-naturedly  yielded  to 
the  wish  of  Master  John  Eyre  and  Dr.  Jones,  that 
she  would  inscribe  her  name  on  the  farthest  column 
that  she  had  reached. 


216  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

There  was  a  little  confusion  while  this  was  being 
done,  as  some  of  the  more  enterprising  wished  to 
penetrate  as  far  as  possible  into  the  recesses  of  the 
cave,  and  these  were  allowed  to  pass  forward — Diccon 
and  his  father  among  them.  In  the  passing  and  re- 
passing, Cicely  entirely  lost  sight  of  all  who  had  any 
special  care  of  her,  and  went  stumbling  on  alone, 
weary,  frightened,  and  repenting  of  the  wilfulness  with 
which  she  had  urged  on  the  expedition.  Each  of 
the  other  ladies  had  some  cavalier  to  help  her,  but 
none  had  fallen  to  Cicely's  lot,  and  though,  to  an 
active  girl,  there  was  no  real  danger  where  the  torch- 
bearers  lined  the  way,  still  there  was  so  much  diffi- 
culty that  she  was  a  laggard  in  reaching  the  likeness 
of  Acheron,  and  could  see  no  father  near  as  she  laid 
herself  down  in  Charon's  dismal  boat,  dimly  rejoicing 
that  this  time  it  was  to  return  to  the  realms  of  day, 
and  yet  feeling  as  if  she  should  never  reach  them.  A 
hand  was  given  to  assist  her  from  the  boat  by  one  of 
the  torchbearers,  a  voice  strangely  familiar  was  in  her 
ears,  saying,  "  Mistress  Cicely ! "  and  she  knew  the 
eager  eyes,  and  exclaimed  under  her  breath,  "  Antony, 
you  here  ?     In  hiding  ?     What  have  you  done  ? " 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered,  smiling,  and  holding  her 
hand,  as  he  helped  her  forward.  "  I  only  put  on  this 
garb  that  I  might  gaze  once  more  on  the  most  divine 
and  persecuted  of  queens,  and  with  some  hope  likewise 
that  I  might  win  a  word  with  her  who  deigned  once 
to  be  my  playmate.  Lady,  I  know  the  truth  respecting 
you." 

"  Do  you  in  very  deed  ?"  demanded  Cicely,  consider- 
ably startled. 

"  I  know  your  true  name,  and  that  you  are  none  of 
the  mastiff  race,"  said  Antony. 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  217 

"  Did — did  Tibbott  tell  you,  sir  ?"  asked  Cicely. 

"  You  are  one  of  us,"  said  Antony ;  "  bound  by 
natural  allegiance  in  the  land  of  your  birth  to  this 
lady." 

"  Even  so,"  said  Cis,  here  becoming  secure  of  what 
she  had  before  doubted,  that  Babington  only  knew  half 
the  truth  he  referred  to. 

"  And  you  see  and  speak  with  her  privily,"  he 
added. 

"  As  Bess  Pierrepoint  did,"  said  she. 

These  words  passed  during  the  ascent,  and  were 
much  interrupted  by  the  difficulties  of  the  way,  in 
which  Antony  rendered  such  aid  that  she  was  each 
moment  more  impelled  to  trust  to  him,  and  relieved  to 
find  herself  in  such  familiar  hands.  On  reaching  the 
summit  the  light  of  day  could  be  seen  glimmering  in 
the  extreme  distance,  and  the  maiden's  heart  bounded 
at  the  sight  of  it ;  but  she  found  herself  led  some- 
what aside,  where  in  a  sort  of  side  aisle  of  the  great 
bell  chamber  were  standing  together  four  more  of  the 
torch-bearers. 

One  of  them,  a  slight  man,  made  a  step  forward 
and  said,  "  The  Queen  hath  dropped  her  kerchief. 
Mayhap  the  young  gentlewoman  will  restore  it?" 

"She  will  do  more  than  that!"  said  Antony,  draw- 
ing her  into  the  midst  of  them.  "  Dost  not  know  her, 
Langston  ?  She  is  her  sacred  Majesty's  own  born,  true, 
and  faithful  subject,  the  Lady " 

"  Hush,  my  friend ;  thou  art  ever  over  outspoken 
with  thy  names,"  returned  the  other,  evidently  annoyed 
at  Babington's  imprudence. 

"I  tell  thee,  she  is  one  of  us,"  replied  Antony 
impatiently.  "  How  is  the  Queen  to  know  of  her 
friends  if  we  name  them  not  to  her  ?" 


218  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"Are  these  her  friends?"  asked  Cicely,  looking 
round  on  the  five  figures  in  the  leathern  coats  and 
yeomen's  heavy  buskins  and  shoes,  and  especially  at 
the  narrow  face  and  keen  pale  eyes  of  Langston. 

"  Ay,  verily,"  said  one,  whom  Cicely  could  see  even 
under  his  disguise  to  be  a  slender,  graceful  youth.  "  By 
John  Eyre's  favour  have  we  come  together  here  to 
gaze  on  the  true  and  lawful  mistress  of  our  hearts,  the 
champion  of  our  faith,  in  her  martyrdom."  Then 
taking  the  kerchief  from  Langston's  hand,  Babington 
kissed  it  reverently,  and  tore  it  into  five  pieces,  which 
he  divided  among  himself  and  his  fellows,  saying, 
"  This  fair  mistress  shall  bear  witness  to  her  sacred 
Majesty  that  we — Antony  Babington,  Chidiock  Tich- 
borne,  Cuthbert  Langston,  John  Charnock,  John  Savage 
— regard  her  as  the  sole  and  lawful  Queen  of  England 
and  Scotland,  and  that  as  we  have  gone  for  her  sake 
into  the  likeness  of  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
so  will  we  meet  death  itself  and  stain  this  linen  with 
our  best  heart's  blood  rather  than  not  bring  her  again 
to  freedom  and  the  throne  !" 

Then  with  the  most  solemn  oath  each  enthusiastic- 
ally kissed  the  white  token,  and  put  it  in  his  breast, 
but  Langston  looked  with  some  alarm  at  the  girl,  and 
said  to  Babington,  "Doth  this  young  lady  understand 
that  you  have  put  our  lives  into  her  hands  ?" 

"  She  knows  !  she  knows  !  I  answer  for  her  with 
my  life,"  said  Antony. 

"  Let  her  then  swear  to  utter  no  word  of  what  she 
has  seen  save  to  the  Queen,"  said  Langston,  and  Cicely 
detected  a  glitter  in  that  pale  eye,  and  with  a  horrified 
leap  of  thought,  recollected  how  easy  it  would  be  to  drag 
her  away  into  one  of  those  black  pools,  beyond  all  ken. 

"  Oh  save  me,  Antocy !"  she  cried, clinging  to  his  arm. 


xvl]  the  peak  cayebn.  219 

"  Xo  one  shall  touch  you.  I  will  guard  you  with 
my  life  !"  exclaimed  the  impulsive  young  man,  feeling 
for  the  sword  that  was  not  there. 

"  Who  spoke  of  hurting  the  foolish  wench  ?"  growled 
Savage ;  but  Tichborne  said,  "  Xo  one  would  hurt 
you,  madam ;  but  it  is  due  to  us  all  that  you  should 
give  us  your  word  of  honour  not  to  disclose  what  has 
passed,  save  to  our  only  true  mistress." 

"  Oh  yes  !  yes  !"  cried  Cicely  hastily,  scarcely  know- 
ing what  passed  her  lips,  and  only  anxious  to  escape 
from  that  gleaming  eye  of  Langston,  which  had  twice 
before  filled  her  with  a  nameless  sense  of  the  necessity 
of  terrified  obedience.  "  Oh  !  let  me  go.  I  hear  my 
father's  voice." 

She  sprang  forward  with  a  cry  between  joy  and 
terror,  and  darted  up  to  Richard  Talbot,  while  Savage, 
the  man  who  looked  most  entirely  unlike  a  disguised 
gentleman,  stepped  forward,  and  in  a  rough,  north 
country  dialect,  averred  that  the  young  gentlewoman 
had  lost  her  way. 

"  Poor  maid,"  said  kind  Eichard,  gathering  the  two 
trembling  little  hands  into  one  of  his  own  broad  ones. 
"  How  was  it  ?  Thanks,  good  fellow,"  and  he  dropped 
a  broad  piece  into  Savage's  palm ;  "  thou  hast  done 
good  service.     What,  Cis,  child,  art  quaking?" 

"  Hast  seen  any  hobgoblins,  Cis  ? "  said  Diccon,  at 
her  other  side.     "  I'm  sure  I  heard  them  laugh." 

"  Whist,  Dick,"  said  his  father,  putting  a  strong  arm 
round  the  girl's  waist.  "  See,  my  wench,  yonder  is  the 
goodly  light  of  day.     We  shall  soon  be  there." 

With  all  his  fatherly  kindness,  he  helped  the  agi- 
tated girl  up  the  remaining  ascent,  as  the  lovely  piece 
of  blue  sky  between  the  retreating  rocks  grew  wider, 
and  the   archway  higher  above  them.      Cis  felt  that 


220  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

infinite  repose  and  reliance  that  none  else  could  give, 
yet  the  repose  was  disturbed  by  the  pang  of  recol- 
lection that  the  secret  laid  on  her  was  their  first 
severance.  It  was  unjust  to  his  kindness  ;  strange, 
doubtful,  nay  grisly,  to  her  foreboding  mind,  and  she 
shivered  alike  from  that  and  the  chill  of  the  damp 
cavern,  and  then  he  drew  her  cloak  more  closely  about 
her,  and  halted  to  ask  for  the  flask  of  wine  which  one 
of  the  adventurous  spirits  had  brought,  that  Queen 
Elizabeth's  health  might  be  drunk  by  her  true  subjects 
in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The  wine  was,  of  course, 
exhausted ;  but  Dr.  Jones  bustled  forward  with  some 
cordial  waters  which  he  had  provided  in  case  of  any- 
one being  struck  with  the  chill  of  the  cave,  and  Cicely 
was  made  to  swallow  some. 

By  this  time  she  had  been  missed,  and  the  little 
party  were  met  by  some  servants  sent  by  the  Earl  at 
the  instance  of  the  much-alarmed  Queen  to  inquire  for 
her.  A  little  farther  on  came  Mistress  Talbot,  in  much 
anxiety  and  distress,  though  as  Diccon  ran  forward  to 
meet  her,  and  she  saw  Cicely  on  her  husband's  arm, 
she  resumed  her  calm  and  staid  demeanour,  and  when 
assured  that  the  maiden  had  suffered  no  damage,  she 
made  no  special  demonstrations  of  joy  or  affection. 
Indeed,  such  would  have  been  deemed  unbecoming  in 
the  presence  of  strangers,  and  disrespectful  to  the 
Queen  and  the  Earl,  who  were  not  far  off. 

Mary,  on  the  other  hand,  started  up,  held  out  her 
arms,  received  the  truant  with  such  vehement  kisses, 
as  might  almost  have  betrayed  their  real  relationship, 
and  then  reproached  her,  with  all  sorts  of  endearing 
terms,  for  having  so  terrified  them  all;  nor  would  she  let 
the  girl  go  from  her  side,  and  kept  her  hand  in  her  own. 

Diccon  meanwhile  had  succeeded  in  securing  his 


XVI.]  TIIE  PEAK  CAVEBN.  221 

father's  attention,  winch  had  been  wholly  given  to 
Cicely  till  she  was  placed  in  the  women's  hands. 
"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  wis  that  one  of  the  knaves  with 
the  torches  who  found  our  Cis  was  the  woman  with  the 
beads  and  bracelets,  ay,  and  Tibbott,  too." 

"  Belike,  belike,  my  son,"  said  Richard.  "  There 
are  folk  who  can  take  as  many  forms  as  a  barnacle 
goose.  Keep  thou  a  sharp  eye  as  the  fellows  pass 
out,  and  pull  me  by  the  cloak  if  thou  seest  him." 

Of  course  he  was  not  seen,  and  Richard,  who  was 
growing  more  and  more  cautious  about  bringing  vague 
or  half-proved  suspicions  before  his  Lord,  decided  to 
be  silent  and  to  watch,  though  he  sighed  to  his  wife 
that  the  poor  child  would  soon  be  in  the  web. 

Cis  had  not  failed  to  recognise  that  same  identity, 
and  to  feel  a  half-realised  conviction  that  the  Queen 
had  not  chosen  to  confide  to  her  that  the  two  female 
disguises  both  belonged  to  Langston.  Yet  the  con- 
trast between  Mary's  endearments  and  the  restrained 
manner  of  Susan  so  impelled  her  towards  the  veritable 
mother,  that  the  compunction  as  to  the  concealment 
she  had  at  first  experienced  passed  away,  and  her  heart 
felt  that  its  obligations  were  towards  her  veritable  and 
most  loving  parent.  She  told  the  Queen  the  whole 
story  at  night,  to  Mary's  great  delight.  She  said  she 
was  sure  her  little  one  had  something  on  her  mind,  she 
had  so  little  to  say  of  her  adventure,  and  the  next  day 
a  little  privy  council  was  contrived,  in  which  Cicely  was 
summoned  again  to  tell  her  tale.  The  ladies  declared 
they  had  always  hoped  much  from  their  darling  page,  in 
whom  they  had  kept  up  the  true  faith,  but  Sir  Andrew 
Melville  shook  his  head  and  said  :  "  I'd  misdoot  ony 
plot  where  the  little  finger  of  him  was.  "What  garred 
the  silly  loon  call  in  the  young  leddy  ere  he  kenned 
whether  she  wad  keep  counsel  ?" 


222  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    EBBING    WELL. 

Cicely's  thirst  for  adventures  had  received  a  check, 
but  the  Queen,  being  particularly  well  and  in  good 
spirits,  and  trusting  that  this  would  be  her  last  visit 
to  Buxton,  was  inclined  to  enterprise,  and  there  were 
long  rides  and  hawking  expeditions  on  the  moors. 

The  last  of  these,  ere  leaving  Buxton,  brought  the 
party  to  the  hamlet  of  Barton  Clough,  where  a  loose 
horseshoe  of  the  Earl's  caused  a  halt  at  a  little  wayside 
smithy.  Mary,  always  friendly  and  free-spoken,  asked 
for  a  draught  of  water,  and  entered  into  conversation 
with  the  smith's  rosy-cheeked  wife  who  brought  it  to 
her,  and  said  it  was  sure  to  be  good  and  pure  for  the 
stream  came  from  the  Ebbing  and  Flowing  Well,  and 
she  pointed  up  a  steep  path.  Then,  on  a  further 
question,  she  proceeded,  "Has  her  ladyship  never 
heard  of  the  Ebbing  Well  that  shows  whether  true 
love  is  soothfast  ? " 

"  How  so  ? "  asked  the  Queen.  "  How  precious 
such  a  test  might  be.  It  would  save  many  a  maiden 
a  broken  heart,  only  that  the  poor  fools  would  ne'er 
trust  it." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  the  Earl,  "  and  Dr.  Jones 
would    demonstrate   to   your   Grace  that  it  is  but  a 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  223 

superstition  of  the  vulgar  regarding  a  natural  pheno- 
menon." 

"  Yea,  my  Lord,"  said  the  smith,  looking  up  from 
the  horse's  foot ;  "  'tis  the  trade  of  yonder  philosophers 
to  gainsay  whatever  honest  folk  believed  before  them. 
They'll  deny  next  that  hens  lay  eggs,  or  blight  rots 
wheat.  My  good  wife  speaks  but  plain  truth,  and  we 
have  seen  it  o'er  and  o'er  again." 

"What  have  you  seen,  good  man?"  asked  Mary 
eagerly,  and  ready  answer  was  made  by  the  couple, 
who  had  acquired  some  cultivation  of  speech  and 
manners  by  their  wayside  occupation,  and  likewise  as 
cicerones  to  the  spring. 

"  Seen,  quoth  the  lady  ?"  said  the  smith.  "  Why, 
he  that  is  a  true  man  and  hath  a  true  maid  can  quaff 
a  draught  as  deep  as  his  gullet  can  hold — or  she  that 
is  true  and  hath  a  true  love — but  let  one  who  hath  a 
flaw  in  the  metal,  on  the  one  side  or  t'other,  stoop  to 
drink,  and  the  water  shrinks  away  so  as  there's  not 
the  moistening  of  a  lip." 

"  Ay  :  the  ladies  may  laugh,"  added  his  wife,  "  but 
'tis  soothfast  for  all  that." 

"Hast  proved  it,  good  dame?"  asked  the  Queen 
archly,  for  the  pair  were  still  young  and  well-looking 
enough  to  be  jested  with. 

"Ay!  have  we  not,  madam?"  said  the  dame. 
"  Was  not  my  man  yonder,  Bob,  the  tinker's  son,  whom 
my  father  and  brethren,  the  smiths  down  yonder  at 
Buxton,  thought  but  scorn  of,  but  we'd  taken  a  sup 
together  at  the  Ebbing  Well,  and  it  played  neither  of  us 
false,  so  we  held  out  against  'em  all,  and  when  they  saw 
there  was  no  help  for  it,  they  gave  Eob  the  second 
best  anvil  and  bellows  for  my  portion,  and  here  we 
be." 


224  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

"  Living  witnesses  to  the  Well/'  said  the  Queen 
merrily.  "  How  say  you,  my  Lord  ?  I  would  fain  see 
this  marvel.     Master  Curll,  will  you  try  the  venture  V' 

"I  fear  it  not,  madam,"  said  the  secretary,  looking 
at  the  blushing  Barbara. 

Objections  did  not  fail  to  arise  from  the  Earl  as  to 
the  difficulties  of  the  path  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
but  Eob  Smith,  perhaps  wilfully,  discovered  another 
of  my  Lord's  horseshoes  to  be  in  a  perilous  state, 
and  his  good  wife,  Dame  Emmott,  offered  to  conduct 
the  ladies  by  so  good  a  path  that  they  might  think 
themselves  on  the  Queen's  Walk  at  Buxton  itself. 

Lord  Shrewsbury,  finding  himself  a  prisoner,  was 
obliged  to  yield  compliance,  and  leaving  Sir  Andrew 
Melville,  with  the  grooms  and  falconers,  in  charge  of 
the  horses,  the  Queen,  the  Earl,  Cicely,  Mary  Seaton, 
Barbara  Mowbray,  the  two  secretaries,  and  Bichard 
.Talbot  and  young  Diccon,  started  on  the  walk,  to- 
gether with  Dr.  Bourgoin,  her  physician,  who  was 
eager  to  investigate  the  curiosity,  and  make  it  a  sub- 
ject of  debate  with  Dr.  Jones. 

The  path  was  a  beautiful  one,  through  rocks  and 
brushwood,  mountain  ash  bushes  showing  their  coral 
berries  amid  their  feathery  leaves,  golden  and  white 
stars  of  stonecrop  studding  every  coign  of  vantage, 
and  in  more  level  spots  the  waxy  bell-heather  begin- 
ning to  come  into  blossom.  Still  it  was  rather  over 
praise  to  call  it  as  smooth  as  the  carefully-levelled 
and  much-trodden  Queen's  path  at  Buxton,  considering 
that  it  ascended  steeply  all  the  way,  and  made  the 
solemn,  much-enduring  Earl  pant  for  breath ;  but  the 
Queen,  her  rheumatics  for  the  time  entirely  in  abey- 
ance, bounded  on  with  the  mountain  step  learned  in 
early  childhood,  and  closely  followed  the  brisk  Em- 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  225 

mott  The  last  ascent  was  a  steep  pull,  taking  away 
the  disposition  to  speak,  and  at  its  summit  Mary  stood 
still  holding  out  one  hand,  with  a  ringer  of  the  other 
on  her  lips  as  a  sign  of  silence  to  the  rest  of  the 
suite  and  to  Emmott,  who  stood  flushed  and  angered ; 
for  what  she  esteemed  her  lawful  province  seemed  to 
have  been  invaded  from  the  other  side  of  the  country. 

They  were  on  the  side  of  the  descent  from  the 
moorlands  connected  with  the  Peak,  on  a  small 
esplanade  in  the  midst  of  which  lay  a  deep  clear 
pool,  with  nine  small  springs  or  fountains  discharging 
themselves,  under  fern  and  wild  rose  or  honeysuckle, 
into  its  basin.  Steps  had  been  cut  in  the  rock  lead- 
ing to  the  verge  of  the  pool,  and  on  the  lowest  of 
these,  with  his  back  to  the  new-comers,  was  kneeling 
a  young  man,  his  brown  head  bare,  his  short  cloak  laid 
aside,  so  that  his  well-knit  form  could  be  seen ;  the 
sword  and  spurs  that  clanked  against  the  rock,  as  well 
as  the  whole  fashion  and  texture  of  his  riding-dress, 
showing  him  to  be  a  gentleman. 

"  We  shall  see  the  venture  made,"  whispered  Mary 
to  her  daughter,  who,  in  virtue  of  youth  and  lightness 
of  foot,  had  kept  close  behind  her.  Grasping  the  girl's 
arm  and  smiling,  she  heard  the  young  man's  voice  cry 
aloud  to  the  echoes  of  the  rock,  "  Cis !"  then  stoop 
forward  and  plunge  face  and  head  into  the  clear  trans- 
lucent water. 

11  Good  luck  to  a  true  lover !"  smiled  the  Queen. 
"  "What !  starting,  silly  maid  ?  Cisses  are  plenty  in  these 
parts  as  rowan  berries." 

"  Kay,  but "  gasped  Cicely,  for  at  that  moment 

the  young  man,  rising  from  his  knees,  his  face  still 
shining  with  the  water,  looked  up  at  his  unsuspected 
spectators.     An  expression  of  astonishment  and  ecstasy 

VOL.  L  Q 


226  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

lighted  up  his  honest  sunburnt  countenance  as  Master 
Eichard,  who  had  just  succeeded  in  dragging  the  portly- 
Earl  up  the  steep  path,  met  his  gaze.  He  threw  up 
his  arms,  made  apparently  but  one  bound,  and  was 
kneeling  at  the  captain's  feet,  embracing  his  knees. 

"  My  son  !  Humfrey !  Thyself ! "  cried  Eichard. 
"  See  !  see  what  presence  we  are  in." 

"  Your  blessing,  father,  first,"  cried  Humfrey,  "  ere 
I  can  see  aught  else." 

And  as  Eichard  quickly  and  thankfully  laid  his 
hand  on  the  brow,  so  much  fairer  than  the  face,  and 
then  held  his  son  for  one  moment  in  a  close  embrace, 
with  an  exchange  of  the  kiss  that  was  not  then  only 
a  foreign  fashion,  Queen  and  Earl  said  to  one  another 
with  a  sigh,  that  happy  was  the  household  where  the 
son  had  no  eyes  for  any  save  his  father. 

Mary,  however,  must  have  found  it  hard  to  con- 
tinue her  smiles  when,  after  due  but  hurried  obeisance 
to  her  and  to  his  feudal  chief,  Humfrey  turned  to  the 
little  figure  beside  her,  all  smiling  with  startled  shyness, 
and  in  one  moment  seemed  to  swallow  it  up  in  a  huge 
overpowering  embrace,  fraternal  in  the  eyes  of  almost 
all  the  spectators,  but  not  by  any  means  so  to  those 
of  Mary,  especially  after  the  name  she  had  heard. 
Diccon's  greeting  was  the  next,  and  was  not  quite  so 
visibly  rapturous  on  the  part  of  the  elder  brother,  who 
explained  that  he  had  arrived  at  Sheffield  yesterday, 
and  finding  no  one  to  welcome  him  but  little  Edward, 
had  set  forth  for  Buxton  almost  with  daylight,  and 
having  found  himself  obliged  to  rest  his  horse,  he  had 

turned  aside  to .     And  here  he  recollected  just  in 

time  that  Cis  was  in  every  one's  eyes  save  his  father's, 
his  own  sister,  and  lamely  concluded  "to  take  a 
draught  of  water,"  blushing  under  his  brown  skin  as 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  227 

he  spoke.  Poor  fellow !  the  Queen,  even  while  she 
wished  him  in  the  farthest  West  Indian  isle,  could  not 
help  understanding  that  strange  doubt  and  dread  that 
come  over  the  mind  at  the  last  moment  before  a 
longed-for  meeting,  and  which  had  made  even  the  bold 
young  sailor  glad  to  rally  his  hopes  by  this  divination. 
Fortunately  she  thought  only  herself  and  one  or  two 
of  the  foremost  had  heard  the  name  he  gave,  as  was 
proved  by  the  Earl's  good-humoured  laugh,  as  he  said, 

"  A  draught,  quotha  ?  We  understand  that,  young 
sir.     And  who  may  this  your  true  love  be  ?" 

"  That  I  hope  soon  to  make  known  to  your  Lord- 
ship," returned  Humfrey,  with  a  readiness  which  he 
certainly  did  not  possess  before  his  voyage. 

The  ceremony  was  still  to  be  fulfilled,  and  the 
smith's  wife  called  them  to  order  by  saying,  "Good 
luck  to  the  young  gentleman.  He  is  a  stranger  here, 
or  he  would  have  known  he  should  have  come  up  by 
our  path  !     Will  you  try  the  well,  your  Grace  ? " 

"  Nay,  nay,  good  woman,  my  time  for  such  toys  is 
over !"  said  the  Queen  smiling,  "  but  moved  by  such 
an  example,  here  are  others  to  make  the  venture, 
Master  Curll  is  burning  for  it/ 1  see." 

"  I  fear  no  such  trial,  an't  please  your  Grace,"  said 
Curll,  bowing,  with  a  bright  defiance  of  the  water,  and 
exchanging  a  confident  smile  with  the  blushing  Mistress 
Barbara — then  kneeling  by  the  well,  and  uttering  her 
name  aloud  ere  stooping  to  drink.  He  too  succeeded 
in  obtaining  a  full  draught,  and  came  up  triumphantly. 

"The  water  is  a  flatterer!"  said  the  Earl.  "It 
favours  all." 

The  French  secretary,  Monsieur  Nau,  here  came  for- 
ward and  took  his  place  on  the  steps.  No  one  heard, 
but  every  one  knew  the  word  he  spoke  was  "  Bessie,"  for 


228  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

Elizabeth  Pierrepoint  had  long  been  the  object  of  his 
affections.  No  doubt  he  hoped  that  he  should  obtain 
some  encouragement  from  the  water,  even  while  he 
gave  a  little  laugh  of  affected  incredulity  as  though 
only  complying  with  a  form  to  amuse  the  Queen. 
Down  he  went  on  his  knees,  bending  over  the  pool, 
when  behold  he  could  not  reach  it !  The  streams  that 
fed  it  were  no  longer  issuing  from  the  rock,  the  water 
was  subsiding  rapidly.  The  farther  he  stooped,  the 
more  it  retreated,  till  he  had  almost  fallen  over,  and 
the  guide  screamed  out  a  note  of  warning,  "  Have  a 
care,  sir !  If  the  water  flees  you,  flee  it  will,  and  ye'll 
not  mend  matters  by  drowning  yourself." 

How  he  was  to  be  drowned  by  water  that  fled  from 
him  was  not  clear,  but  with  a  muttered  malediction  he 
arose  and  glanced  round  as  if  he  thought  the  mortifi- 
cation a  trick  on  the  part  of  the  higher  powers,  since 
the  Earl  did  not  think  him  a  match  for  the  Countess's 
grandchild,  and  the  Queen  had  made  it  known  to  him 
that  she  considered  Bess  Pierrepoint  to  have  too  much 
of  her  grandmother's  conditions  to  be  likely  to  be  a 
good  wife.  There  was  a  laugh  too,  scarce  controlled 
by  some  of  the  less  well-mannered  of  the  suite,  especi- 
ally as  the  Earl,  wishing  to  punish  his  presumption, 
loudly  set  the  example. 

There  was  a  pause,  as  the  discomfited  secretary 
came  back,  and  the  guide  exclaimed, "  Come,  my  masters, 
be  not  daunted !  Will  none  of  you  come  on  ?  Hath  none 
of  you  faith  in  your  love  ?     Oh,  fie  !" 

"  We  are  married  men,  good  women,"  said  Eichard, 
hoping  to  put  an  end  to  the  scene,  "and  thus  can 
laugh  at  your  well." 

"  But  will  not  these  pretty  ladies  try  it  ?  It  speaks 
as  sooth  to  lass  as  to  lad." 


XVII. ]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  229 

"  I  am  ready/'  said  Barbara  Mowbray,  as  Curll 
gave  her  his  hand  to  bound  lightly  down  the  steps. 
And  to  the  general  amazement,  no  sooner  had  "  Gilbert " 
echoed  from  her  lips  than  the  fountains  again  burst 
forth,  the  water  rose,  and  she  had  no  difficulty  in 
reaching  it,  while  no  one  could  help  bursting  forth  in 
applause.  Her  Gilbert  fervently  kissed  the  hand  she 
gave  him  to  aid  her  steps  up  the  slope,  and  Dame 
Emmott,  in  triumphant  congratulation,  scanned  them 
over  and  exclaimed,  "  Ay,  trust  the  well  for  knowing 
true  sweetheart  and  true  maid.  Come  you  next,  fair 
mistress  ? "  Poor  Mary  Seaton  shook  her  head,  with 
a  look  that  the  kindly  woman  understood,  and  she 
turned  towards  Cicely,  who  had  a  girl's  unthinking 
impulse  of  curiosity,  and  had  already  put  her  hand 
into  Humfrey's,  when  his  father  exclaimed,  "  Nay,  nay, 
the  maid  is  yet  too  young !"  and  the  Queen  added, 
"  Come  back,  thou  silly  little  one,  these  tests  be  not 
for  babes  like  thee." 

She  was  forced  to  be  obedient,  but  she  pouted  a 
little  as  she  was  absolutely  held  fast  by  Eichard 
Talbot's  strong  hand.  Humfrey  was  disappointed  too  ; 
but  all  was  bright  with  him  just  then,  and  as  the  party 
turned  to  make  the  descent,  he  said  to  her,  "  It  matters 
not,  little  Cis  !  I'm  sure  of  thee  with  the  water  or 
without,  and  after  all,  thou  couldst  but  have  whispered 
my  name,  till  my  father  lets  us  speak  all  out  !" 

They  were  too  much  hemmed  in  by  other  people 
for  a  private  word,  and  a  little  mischievous  banter  was 
going  on  with  Sir  Andrew  Melville,  who  was  supposed 
to  have  a  grave  elderly  courtship  with  Mistress  Ken- 
nedy. Humfrey  was  left  in  the  absolute  bliss  of 
ignorance,  while  the  old  habit  and  instinct  of  joy  and 
gladness   in  his  presence   reasserted  itself  in  Cis,  so 


230  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

that,  as  he  handed  her  down  the  rocks,  she  answered 
in  the  old  tone  all  his  inquiries  about  his  mother, 
and  all  else  that  concerned  them  at  home,  Diccon 
meantime  risking  his  limbs  by  scrambling  outside 
the  path,  to  keep  abreast  of  his  brother,  and  to  put  in 
his  word  whenever  he  could. 

On  reaching  the  smithy,  Humfrey  had  to  go  round 
another  way  to  fetch  his  horse,  and  could  hardly  hope 
to  come  up  with  the  rest  before  they  reached  Buxton. 
His  brother  was  spared  to  go  with  him,  but  his  father 
was  too  important  a  part  of  the  escort  to  be  spared 
So  Cicely  rode  near  the  Queen,  and  heard  no  more 
except  the  Earl's  version  of  Dr.  Jones's  explanation  of 
the  intermitting  spring.  They  reached  home  only  just 
in  time  to  prepare  for  supper,  and  the  two  youths 
appeared  almost  simultaneously,  so  that  Mistress  Tal- 
bot, sitting  at  her  needle  on  the  broad  terrace  in  front 
of  the  Earl's  lodge,  beheld  to  her  amazement  and 
delight  the  figure  that,  grown  and  altered  as  it  was, 
she  recognised  in  an  instant.  In  another  second 
Humfrey  had  sprung  from  his  horse,  rushed  up  the 
steps,  he  knew  not  how,  and  the  Queen,  with  tears 
trembling  in  her  eyes  was  saying,  "  Ah,  Melville  !  see 
how  sons  meet  their  mothers  !" 

The  great  clock  was  striking  seven,  a  preposterously 
late  hour  for  supper,  and  etiquette  was  stronger  than 
sentiment  or  perplexity.  Every  one  hastened  to  as- 
sume an  evening  toilette,  for  a  riding-dress  would  have 
been  an  insult  to  the  Earl,  and  the  bell  soon  clanged 
to  call  them  down  to  their  places  in  the  hall.  Even 
Humfrey  had  brought  in  his  cloak-bag  wherewithal 
to  make  himself  presentable,  and  soon  appeared,  a  well- 
knit  and  active  figure,  in  a  plain  dark  blue  jerkin,  with 
white  slashes,  and  long  hose  knitted  by  his  mother's 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  231 

dainty  fingers,  and  well-preserved  shoes  with  blue 
rosettes,  and  a  flat  blue  velvet  cap,  with  an  exquisite 
black  and  sapphire  feather  in  it  fastened  by  a  curious 
brooch.  His  hair  was  so  short  that  its  naturally  strong 
curl  could  hardly  be  seen,  his  ruddy  sunburnt  face 
could  hardly  be  called  handsome,  but  it  was  full  of 
frankness  and  intelligence,  and  beaming  with  honest 
joy,  and  close  to  him  moved  little  Diccon,  hardly  able 
to  repress  his  ecstasy  within  company  bounds,  and  let- 
ting it  find  vent  in  odd  little  gestures,  wriggling  with 
his  body,  playing  tunes  on  his  knee,  or  making  dancing- 
steps  with  his  feet. 

Lord  Shrewsbury  welcomed  his  young  kinsman  as 
one  who  had  grown  from  a  mere  boy  into  a  sturdy  and 
effective  supporter.  He  made  the  new-comer  sit  near 
him,  and  asked  many  questions,  so  that  Humfrey  was 
the  chief  speaker  all  supper  time,  with  here  and  there 
a  note  from  his  father,  the  only  person  who  had  made 
the  same  voyage.  All  heard  with  eager  interest  of  the 
voyage,  the  weeds  in  the  Gulf  Stream,  the  strange 
birds  and  fishes,  of  "Walter  Ealeigh's  Virginian  colony 
and  its  ill  success,  of  the  half-starved  men  whom  Sir 
Eichard  Grenville  had  found  only  too  ready  to  leave 
Eoanoake,  of  dark-skinned  Indians,  of  chases  of  Spanish 
ships,  of  the  Peak  of  Teneriffe  rising  white  from  the 
waves,  of  phosphorescent  seas,  of  storms,  and  of  shark- 
catching. 

Supper  over,  the  audience  again  gathered  round  the 
young  traveller,  a  perfect  fountain  of  various  and  won- 
derful information  to  those  who  had  for  the  most  part 
never  seen  a  book  of  travels.  He  narrated  simply  and 
well,  without  his  boyish  shy  embarrassment  and  awk- 
wardness, and  likewise,  as  his  father  alone  could  judge, 
without  boasting,  though,  if  to  no  one  else,  to  Diccon 


232  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

and  Cis,  listening  with  wide  open  eyes,  he  seemed  a 
hero  of  heroes.  In  the  midst  of  his  narration  a  message 
came  that  the  Queen  of  Scots  requested  the  presence  of 
Mistress  Cicely.  Humfrey  stared  in  discomfiture,  and 
asked  when  she  would  return. 

"Not  to-night,"  faltered  the  girl,  and  the  mother 
added,  for  the  benefit  of  the  bystanders,  "  For  lack  of 
other  ladies  of  the  household,  much  service  hath  of  late 
fallen  to  Cicely  and  myself,  and  she  shares  the  Queen's 
chamber." 

Humfrey  had  to  submit  to  exchange  good-nights 
with  Cicely,  and  she  made  her  way  less  willingly  than 
usual  to  the  apartments  of  the  Queen,  who  was  being 
made  ready  for  her  bed.  "  Here  comes  our  truant," 
she  exclaimed  as  the  maiden  entered.  "  I  sent  to  rescue 
thee  from  the  western  seafarer  who  had  clawed  thee 
in  his  tarry  clutch.  Thou  didst  act  the  sister's  part 
passing  well.  I  hear  my  Lord  and  all  his  meind  have 
been  sitting,  open-mouthed,  hearkening  to  his  tales  of 
savages  and  cannibals." 

"  0  madam,  he  told  us  of  such  lovely  isles,"  said 
Cis.  "  The  sea,  he  said,  is  blue,  bluer  than  we  can 
conceive,  with  white  waves  of  dazzling  surf,  breaking 
on  islands  fringed  with  white  shells  and  coral,  and 
with  palms,  their  tops  like  the  biggest  ferns  in  the 
brake,  and  laden  with  red  golden  fruit  as  big  as 
goose  eggs.  And  the  birds !  0  madam,  my  mother, 
the  birds  !  They  are  small,  small  as  our  butterflies 
and  beetles,  and  they  hang  hovering  and  quivering 
over  a  flower  so  that  Humfrey  thought  they  were 
moths,  for  he  saw  nothing  but  a  whizzing  and  a  whirr- 
ing till  he  smote  the  pretty  thing  dead,  and  then  he 
said  that  I  should  have  wept  for  pity,  for  it  was  a 
little  bird  with  a  long  bill,  and  a  breast  that  shines 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  233 

red  in  one  light,  purple  in  another,  and  flame-coloured 
in  a  third.  He  has  brought  home  the  little  skin  and 
feathers  of  it  for  me." 

"  Thou  hast  supped  full  of  travellers'  tales,  my 
simple  child." 

"  Yea,  madam,  but  my  Lord  listened,  and  made 
Humfrey  sit  beside  him,  and  made  much  of  him — my 
Lord  himself  !  I  would  fain  bring  him  to  you,  madam. 
It  is  so  wondrous  to  hear  him  tell  of  the  Eed  Men 
with  crowns  of  feathers  and  belts  of  beads.  Such 
gentle  savages  they  be,  and  their  chiefs  as  courteous 
and  stately  as  any  of  our  princes,  and  yet  those  cruel 
Spaniards  make  them  slaves  and  force  them  to  dig  in 
mines,  so  that  they  die  and  perish  under  their  hands." 

"  And  better  so  than  that  they  should  not  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  faith,"  said  Mary. 

"I  forgot  that  your  Grace  loves  the  Spaniards,' 
said  Cis,  much  in  the  tone  in  which  she  might  have 
spoken  of  a  taste  in  her  Grace  for  spiders,  adders,  or 
any  other  noxious  animal. 

"  One  day  my  child  will  grow  out  of  her  little 
heretic  prejudices,  and  learn  to  love  her  mother's  staunch 
friends,  the  champions  of  Holy  Church,  and  the  repre- 
sentatives of  true  knighthood  in  these  degenerate  days. 
Ah,  child  !  couldst  thou  but  see  a  true  Spanish  cabal- 
lero,  or  again,  could  I  but  show  thee  my  noble  cousin  of 
Guise,  then  wouldst  thou  know  how  to  rate  these  gross 
clownish  English  mastiffs  who  now  turn  thy  silly  little 
brain.    Ah,  that  thou  couldst  once  meet  a  true  prince  !" 

"  The  well,"  murmured  Cicely. 

"  Tush,  child,"  said  the  Queen,  amused.  "  What 
of  that  ?  Thy  name  is  not  Cis,  is  it  ?  'Tis  only  the 
slough  that  serves  thee  for  the  nonce.  The  good  youth 
will  find  himself  linked  to  some  homely,  housewifely 


234  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

Cis  in  due  time,  when  the  Princess  Bride  is  queening 
it  in  France  or  Austria,  and  will  own  that  the  well  was 
wiser  than  he." 

Poor  Cis  !  If  her  inmost  heart  declared  Humfrey 
Talbot  to  be  prince  enough  for  her,  she  durst  not  enter- 
tain the  sentiment,  not  knowing  whether  it  were  un- 
worthy, and  while  Marie  de  Courcelles  read  aloud  a 
French  legend  of  a  saint  to  soothe  the  Queen  to  sleep, 
she  lay  longing  after  the  more  sympathetic  mother,  and 
wondering  what  was  passing  in  the  hall. 

Eichard  Talbot  had  communed  with  his  wife's  eyes, 
and  made  up  his  mind  that  Humfrey  should  know  the 
full  truth  before  the  Queen  should  enjoin  his  being  put 
off  with  the  story  of  the  parentage  she  had  invented 
for  Bride  Hepburn ;  and  while  some  of  the  gentlemen 
followed  their  habit  of  sitting  late  over  the  wine  cup, 
he  craved  their  leave  to  have  his  son  to  himself  a  little 
while,  and  took  him  out  in  the  summer  twilight  on  the 
greensward,  going  through  the  guards,  for  whom  he,  as 
the  gentleman  warder,  had  the  password  of  the  night. 
In  compliment  to  the  expedition  of  the  day  it  had  been 
made  "  True  love  and  the  Flowing  Well."  It  sounded 
agreeable  in  Humfrey 's  ears;  he  repeated  it  again,  and 
then  added  "  Little  Cis  I  she  hath  come  to  woman's 
estate,  and  she  hath  caught  some  of  the  captive  lady's 
pretty  tricks  of  the  head  and  hands.  How  long  hath 
she  been  so  thick  with  her  ?" 

"  Since  this  journey.  I  have  to  speak  with  thee,  my 
son." 

"  I  wait  your  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Humfrey,  and  as 
his  father  paused  a  moment  ere  communicating  his 
strange  tidings,  he  rendered  the  matter  less  easy  by 
saying,  "  I  guess  your  purpose.  If  I  may  at  once  wed 
my  little  Cis  I  will  send  word  to  Sir  John  Norreys  that 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  235 

I  am  not  for  this  expedition  to  the  Low  Countries, 
though  there  is  good  and  manly  work  to  be  done  there, 
and  I  have  the  offer  of  a  command,  but  I  gave  not 
my  word  till  I  knew  your  will,  and  whether  we  might 
wed  at  once." 

"  Thou  hast  much  to  hear,  my  son." 

"  Nay,  surely  no  one  has  come  between ! "  ex- 
claimed Humfrey.  "  Methought  she  was  less  frank 
and  more  coy  than  of  old.  If  that  sneaking  traitor 
Babington  hath  been  making  up  to  her  I  will  slit  his 
false  gullet  for  him." 

"  Hush,  hush,  Humfrey  !  thy  seafaring  boasts  skill 
not  here.  No  man  hath  come  between  thee  and 
yonder  poor  maid." 

"  Poor !  You  mean  not  that  she  is  sickly.  Were 
she  so,  I  would  so  tend  her  that  she  should  be  well  for 
mere  tenderness.  But  no,  she  was  the  very  image  of 
health.  No  man,  said  you,  father  ?  Then  it  is  a 
woman.  Ah  !  my  Lady  Countess  is  it,  bent  on  making 
her  match  her  own  way  ?  Sir,  you  are  too  good  and 
upright  to  let  a  tyrannous  dame  like  that  sever 
between  us,  though  she  be  near  of  kin  to  us.  My 
mother  might  scruple  to  cross  her,  but  you  have  seen 
the  world,  sir." 

"  My  lad,  you  are  right  in  that  it  is  a  woman  who 
stands  between  you  and  Cis,  but  it  is  not  the  Countess. 
None  would  have  the  right  to  do  so,  save  the  maiden's 
own  mother." 

"  Her  mother  !  You  have  discovered  her  lineage  ! 
Can  she  have  ought  against  me  ? — I,  your  son,  sir,  of 
the  Talbot  blood,  and  not  ill  endowed  ? " 

"  Alack,  son,  the  Talbot  may  be  a  good  dog,  but  the 
lioness  will  scarce  esteem  him  her  mate.  Eiddles 
apart,  it  is  proved  beyond  question  that  our  little  maid 


236  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

is  of  birth  as  high  as  it  is  unhappy.  Thou  canst  be 
secret,  I  know,  Humfrey,  and  thou  must  be  silent  as 
the  grave,  for  it  touches  my  honour  and  the  poor  child's 
liberty." 

"  Who  is  she,  then  ?"  demanded  Humfrey  sharply. 

His  father  pointed  to  the  Queen's  window.  Hum- 
frey stared  at  him,  and  muttered  an  ejaculation,  then 
exclaimed,  "How  and  when  was  this  known?" 

Eichard  went  over  the  facts,  giving  as  few  names 
as  possible,  while  his  son  stood  looking  down  and 
drawing  lines  with  the  point  of  his  sword. 

"  I  hoped,"  ended  the  father,  "  that  these  five  years' 
absence  might  have  made  thee  forget  thy  childish 
inclination ;"  and  as  Humfrey,  without  raising  his  face, 
emphatically  shook  his  head,  he  went  on  to  add — "  So, 
my  dear  son,  meseemeth  that  there  is  no  remedy,  but 
that,  for  her  peace  and  thine  own,  thou  shouldest  accept 
this  offer  of  brave  Norreys,  and  by  the  time  the 
campaign  is  ended,  they  may  be  both  safe  in  Scotland, 
out  of  reach  of  vexing  thy  heart,  my  poor  boy." 

"  Is  it  so  sure  that  her  royal  lineage  will  be 
owned  ?"  muttered  Humfrey.  "  Out  on  me  for  saying 
so  !  But  sure  this  lady  hath  made  light  enough  of  her 
wedlock  with  yonder  villain." 

"  Even  so,  but  that  was  when  she  deemed  its 
offspring  safe  beneath  the  waves.  I  fear  me  that,  how- 
ever our  poor  damsel  be  regarded,  she  will  be  treated 
as  a  mere  bait  and  tool.  If  not  bestowed  on  some 
foreign  prince  (and  there  hath  been  talk  of  dukes  and 
archdukes),  she  may  serve  to  tickle  the  pride  of  some 
Scottish  thief,  such  as  was  her  father." 

"  Sir !  sir !  how  can  you  speak  patiently  of  such 
profanation  and  cruelty  ?  Papist  butchers  and  Scottish 
thieves,  for  the  child  of  your  hearth !     Were  it  not 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  237 

better  that  I  stole  her  safely  away  and  wedded  her  in 
secret,  so  that  at  least  she  might  have  an  honest 
husband  ?" 

"  Xay,  his  honesty  would  scarce  be  thus  manifest/' 
said  Richard,  "  even  if  the  maid  would  consent,  which 
I  think  she  would  not.  Her  head  is  too  full  of  her 
new  greatness  to  have  room  for  thee,  my  poor  lad. 
Best  that  thou  shouldest  face  the  truth.  And,  verily, 
what  is  it  but  her  duty  to  obey  her  mother,  her  true 
and  veritable  mother,  Humfrey  ?  It  is  but  making  her 
case  harder,  and  adding  to  her  griefs,  to  strive  to 
awaken  any  inclination  she  may  have  had  for  thee ; 
and  therefore  it  is  that  I  counsel  thee,  nay,  I 
might  command  thee,  to  absent  thyself  while  it  is  still 
needful  that  she  remain  with  us,  passing  for  our 
daughter." 

Humfrey  still  traced  lines  with  his  sword  in  the 
dust.  He  had  always  been  a  strong-willed  though  an 
obedient  and  honourable  boy,  and  his  father  felt  that 
these  five  years  had  made  a  man  of  him,  whom,  in 
spite  of  mediseval  obedience,  it  was  not  easy  to  dispose 
of  arbitrarily. 

"  There's  no  haste,"  he  muttered.  "  Xorreys  will 
not  go  till  my  Lord  of  Leicester's  commission  be  made 
out.     It  is  five  years  since  I  was  at  home." 

"  My  son,  thou  knowest  that  I  would  not  send  thee 
from  me  willingly.  I  had  not  done  so  ere  now,  but 
that  it  was  well  for  thee  to  know  the  world  and  men, 
and  Sheffield  is  a  mere  nest  of  intrigue  and  falsehood, 
where  even  if  one  keeps  one's  integrity,  it  is  hard  to  be 
believed.  But  for  my  Lord,  thy  mother,  and  my  poor 
folk,  I  would  gladly  go  with  thee  to  strike  honest 
downright  blows  at  a  foe  I  could  see  and  feel,  rather 
than  be  nothing  better  than  a  warder,  and  be  driven 


238  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

distracted  with  women's  tongues.  Why,  they  have 
even  set  division  between  my  Lord  and  his  son  Gilbert, 
who  was  ever  the  dearest  to  him.  Young  as  he  is, 
methinks  Diccon  would  be  better  away  with  thee  than 
where  the  very  air  smells  of  plots  and  lies." 

"  1  trow  the  Queen  of  Scots  will  not  be  here  much 
longer,"  said  Humfrey.  "  Men  say  in  London  that  Sir 
Balf  Sadler  is  even  now  setting  forth  to  take  charge  of 
her,  and  send  my  Lord  to  London." 

"  We  have  had  such  hopes  too  often,  my  son,"  said 
Eichard.  "  Nay,  she  hath  left  us  more  than  once,  but 
always  to  fall  back  upon  Sheffield  like  a  weight  to  the 
ground.  But  she  is  full  of  hope  in  her  son,  now  that 
he  is  come  of  age,  and  hath  put  to  death  her  great  foe, 
the  Earl  of  Morton." 

"  The  poor  lady  might  as  well  put  her  faith  in — 
in  a  jelly-fish,"  said  Humfrey,  falling  on  a  comparison 
perfectly  appreciated  by  the  old  sailor. 

"  Heh  ?  She  will  get  naught  but  stings.  How 
knowest  thou  ?" 

"  Why,  do  none  know  here  that  King  James  is  in 
the  hands  of  him  they  call  the  Master  of  Gray  ? " 

"  Queen  Mary  puts  in  him  her  chief  hope." 

"  Then  she  hath  indeed  grasped  a  jelly-fish.  Know 
you  not,  father,  those  proud  and  gay  ones,  with  rose- 
coloured  bladders  and  long  blue  beards — blue  as  the 
azure  of  a  herald's  coat  ?" 

"  Ay,  marry  I  do.  I  remember  when  I  was  a  lad, 
in  my  first  voyage,  laying  hold  on  one.  I  warrant 
you  I  danced  about  till  I  was  nearly  overboard,  and 
my  arm  was  as  big  as  two  for  three  days  later.  Is 
the  fellow  of  that  sort  ?     The  false  Scot." 

"Look  you,  father,  I  met  in  London  that  same 
Johnstone  who  was  one  of  this  lady's  gentlemen  at 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  239 

one  time.  You  remember  him.  He  breakfasted  at 
Bridgefield  once  or  twice  ere  the  watch  became  more 
strict." 

"  Yea,  I  remember  him.  He  was  an  honest  fellow 
for  a  Scot." 

"  AYhen  he  made  out  that  I  was  the  little  lad  he 
remembered,  he  was  very  courteous,  and  desired  his 
commendations  to  you  and  to  my  mother.  He  had 
been  in  Scotland,  and  had  come  south  in  the  train  of 
this  rogue,  Gray.  I  took  him  to  see  the  old  Pelican, 
and  we  had  a  breakfast  aboard  there.  He  asked  much 
after  his  poor  Queen,  whom  he  loves  as  much  as  ever, 
and  when  he  saw  I  was  a  man  he  could  trust,  your 
true  son,  he  said  that  he  saw  less  hope  for  her  than 
ever  in  Scotland — her  friends  have  been  slain  or 
exiled,  and  the  young  generation  that  has  grown  up 
have  learned  to  dread  her  like  an  incarnation  of  the 
scarlet  one  of  Babylon.  Their  preachers  would  hail  her 
as  Satan  loosed  on  them,  and  the  nobles  dread  nothing 
so  much  as  being  made  to  disgorge  the  lands  of  the 
Crown  and  the  Church,  on  which  they  are  battening. 
As  to  her  son,  he  was  fain  enough  to  break  forth  from 
one  set  of  tutors,  and  the  messages  of  France  and  Spain 
tickled  his  fancy — but  he  is  nought.  He  is  crammed 
with  scholarship,  and  not  without  a  shrewd  apprehen- 
sion ;  but,  with  respect  be  it  spoken,  more  the  stuff 
that  court  fools  are  made  of  than  kings.  It  may  be, 
as  a  learned  man  told  Johnstone,  that  the  shock  the 
Queen  suffered  when  the  brutes  put  Davy  to  death 
before  her  eyes,  three  months  ere  his  birth,  hath  dam- 
aged his  constitution,  for  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  whoso- 
ever chooses  to  lead  him,  and  hath  no  will  of  his  own. 
This  Master  of  Gray  was  at  first  inclined  to  the 
Queen's  party,  thinking  more  might  be  got  by  a  reversal 


240  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

of  all  things,  but  now  he  finds  the  king's  men  so  strong 
in  the  saddle,  and  the  Queen's  French  kindred  like  to 
be  too  busy  at  home  to  aid  her,  what  doth  he  do,  but 
list  to  our  Queen's  offers,  and  this  ambassage  of  his, 
which  hath  a  colour  of  being  for  Queen  Mary's  release, 
is  verily  to  make  terms  with  my  Lord  Treasurer  and 
Sir  Francis  Walsingham  for  the  pension  he  is  to  have 
for  keeping  his  king  in  the  same  mind." 

"  Turning  a  son  against  a  mother  !  I  marvel  that 
honourable  counsellors  can  bring  themselves  to  the 
like." 

"  Policy,  sir,  policy,"  said  Humfrey.  "  And  this 
Gray  maketh  a  fine  show  of  chivalry  and  honour,  in- 
somuch that  Sir  Philip  Sidney  himself  hath  desired  his 
friendship ;  but,  you  see,  the  poor  lady  is  as  far  from 
freedom  as  she  was  when  first  she  came  to  Sheffield." 

"  She  is  very  far  from  believing  it,  poor  dame.  I 
am  sorry  for  her,  Humfrey,  more  sorry  than  I  ever 
thought  I  could  be,  now  I  have  seen  more  of  her. 
My  Lord  himself  says  he  never  knew  her  break  a 
promise.     How  gracious  she  is  there  is  no  telling." 

"That  we  always  knew,"  said  Humfrey,  looking 
somewhat  amazed,  that  his  honoured  father  should 
have  fallen  under  the  spell  of  the  "  siren  between  the 
cold  earth  and  moon." 

"  Yes,  gracious,  and  of  a  wondrous  constancy  of 
mind,  and  evenness  of  temper,"  said  Eichard.  "  Now 
that  thy  mother  and  I  have  watched  her  more  closely, 
we  can  testify  that,  weary,  worn,  and  sick  of  body  and 
of  heart  as  she  is,  she  never  letteth  a  bitter  or  a  chid- 
ing word  pass  her  lips  towards  her  servants.  She  hath 
nothing  to  lose  by  it.  Their  fidelity  is  proven.  They 
would  stand  by  her  to  the  last,  use  them  as  she  would, 
but  assuredly  their  love  must  be  doubly  bound  up  in 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  241 

her  when  they  see  how  she  regardeth  them  before  her- 
self. Let  what  will  be  said  of  her,  son  Humfrey,  I 
shall  always  maintain  that  I  never  saw  woman,  save 
thine  own  good  mother,  of  such  evenness  of  condition, 
and  sweetness  of  consideration  for  all  about  her,  ay, 
and  patience  in  adversity,  such  as,  Heaven  forbid, 
thy  mother  should  ever  know." 

"  Amen,  and  verily  amen,"  said  Humfrey.  "  Deem 
you  then  that  she  hath  not  worked  her  own  woe  ?" 

"  Nay,  lad,  what  saith  the  Scripture,  '  Judge  not, 
and  ye  shall  not  be  judged '  ?  How  should  I  know 
what  hath  passed  seventeen  years  back  in  Scotland  ?" 

"Ay,  but  for  present  plots  and  intrigues,  judge 
you  her  a  true  woman  ?" 

"  Humfrey,  thou  hadst  once  a  fox  in  a  cage.  When 
it  found  it  vain  to  dash  against  the  bars,  rememberest 
thou  how  it  scratched  away  the  earth  in  the  rear,  and 
then  sat  over  the  hole  it  had  made,  lest  we  should  see 
it?" 

"  The  fox,  say  you,  sir  ?  Then  you  cannot  call  her 
ought  but  false." 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  Sir  Eichard, "  that  ever  since  an 
Italian  named  Machiavel  wrote  his  Book  of  the  Prince, 
statecraft  hath  been  craft  indeed,  and  princes  suck  in 
deceit  with  the  very  air  they  breathe.  Ay,  boy,  it  is 
what  chiefly  vexes  me  in  the  whole.  I  cannot  doubt 
that  she  is  never  so  happy  as  when  there  is  a  plot  or 
scheme  toward,  not  merely  for  her  own  freedom,  but 
the  utter  overthrow  of  our  own  gracious  Sovereign, 
who,  if  she  hath  kept  this  lady  in  durance,  hath 
shielded  her  from  her  own  bloodthirsty  subjects.  And 
for  dissembling,  I  never  saw  her  equal.  Yet  she,  as 
thy  mother  tells  me,  is  a  pious  and  devout  woman,  who 
bears  her  troubles  thus  cheerfully  and  patiently,  be- 

VOL.  I.  r 


242  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

cause  she  deems  them  a  martyrdom  for  her  religion. 
Ay,  all  women  are  riddles,  they  say,  but  this  one  the 
most  of  all !" 

"Thinkest  thou  that  she  hath  tampered  with — 
with  that  poor  maiden's  faith  ? "  asked  Humfrey 
huskily. 

"  I  trow  not  yet,  my  son,"  replied  Eichard ;  "  Cis  is 
as  open  as  ever  to  thy  mother,  for  I  cannot  believe  she 
hath  yet  learnt  to  dissemble,  and  I  greatly  suspect  that 
the  Queen,  hoping  to  return  to  Scotland,  may  be  will- 
ing to  keep  her  a  Protestant,  the  better  to  win  favour 
with  her  brother  and  the  lords  of  his  council ;  but  if 
he  be  such  a  cur  as  thou  sayest,  all  hope  of  honourable 
release  is  at  an  end.  So  thou  seest,  Humfrey,  how  it 
lies,  and  how,  in  my  judgment,  to  remain  here  is  but 
to  wring  thine  own  heart,  and  bring  the  wench  and 
thyself  to  sore  straits.  I  lay  not  my  commands  on 
thee,  a  man  grown,  but  such  is  my  opinion  on  the 
matter." 

"I  will  not  disobey  you,  father,"  said  Humfrey, 
"  but  suffer  me  to  consider  the  matter." 


XVIII.]  CIS  OK  SISTER.  243 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

CIS   OR   SISTER. 

Buxtona,  quae  calidse  celebraris  nomine  lymphce 
Forte  niilii  post  hac  non  adeunda,  Vale.1 

Thus  wrote  Queen  Mary  with  a  diamond  upon  her 
window  pane,  smiling  as  she  said,  "  There,  we  will 
leave  a  memento  over  which  the  admirable  Dr.  Jones 
will  gloat  his  philosophical  soul  Never  may  I  see 
thee  more,  Buxton,  yet  never  thought  I  to  be  so  happy 
as  I  have  here  been." 

She  spoke  with  the  tenderness  of  farewell  to  the 
spot  which  had  always  been  the  pleasantest  abode  of 
the  various  places  of  durance  which  had  been  hers  in 
England.  Each  year  she  had  hoped  would  be  her  last 
of  such  visits,  but  on  this  occasion  everything  seemed 
to  point  to  a  close  to  the  present  state  of  things,  since 
not  only  were  the  negotiations  with  Scotland  appa- 
rently prosperous,  but  Lord  Shrewsbury  had  obtained 
an  absolute  promise  from  Elizabeth  that  she  would  at 
all  events  relieve  him  from  his  onerous  and  expensive 
charge.  Thus  there  was  general  cheerfulness,  as  the 
baggage  was  bestowed  in  carts  and  on  beasts  of  burthen, 
and  Mary,   as   she  stood  finishing  her  inscription  on 

1  Buxton,  of  whose  warm  waters  all  men  tell, 
Perchance  I  ne'er  shall  see  thee  more,  Farewell. 


244  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

the  window,  smiled  sweetly  and  graciously  on  Mistress 
Talbot,  and  gave  her  joy  of  the  arrival  of  her  towardly 
and  hopeful  son,  adding,  "  We  surprised  him  at  the 
well !  May  his  Cis,  who  is  yet  to  be  found,  I  trow, 
reward  his  lealty  ! " 

That  was  all  the  notice  Mary  deigned  to  take  of 
the  former  relations  between  her  daughter  and  young 
Talbot.  She  did  not  choose  again  to  beg  for  secrecy 
when  she  was  sure  to  hear  that  she  had  been  fore- 
stalled, and  she  was  too  consummate  a  judge  of 
character  not  to  have  learnt  that,  though  she  might 
despise  the  dogged,  simple  straightforwardness  of 
Eichard  and  Susan  Talbot,  their  honour  was  perfectly 
trustworthy.  She  was  able  for  the  present  to  keep 
her  daughter  almost  entirely  to  herself,  since,  on  the 
return  to  Sheffield,  the  former  state  of  things  was 
resumed.  The  Bridgefield  family  was  still  quartered 
in  the  Manor-house,  and  Mistress  Talbot  continued  to 
be,  as  it  were,  Lady  Warder  to  the  captive  in  the 
place  of  the  Countess,  who  obstinately  refused  to 
return  while  Mary  was  still  in  her  husband's  keeping. 
Cicely,  as  Mary's  acknowledged  favourite,  was  almost 
always  in  her  apartments,  except  at  the  meals  of  the 
whole  company  of  Shrewsbury  kinsfolk  and  retainers, 
when  her  place  was  always  far  removed  from  that  of 
Humfrey.  In  truth,  if  ever  an  effort  might  have 
obtained  a  few  seconds  of  private  conversation,  a 
strong  sense  of  embarrassment  and  perplexity  made 
the  two  young  people  fly  apart  rather  than  come 
together.  They  knew  not  what  they  wished.  Hum- 
frey might  in  his  secret  soul  long  for  a  token  that  Cis 
remembered  his  faithful  affection,  and  yet  he  knew 
that  to  elicit  one  might  do  her  life-long  injury.  So, 
however  he  might  crave  for  word  or  look  when  out  of 


XVI II. ]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  245 

sight  of  her,  an  honourable  reluctance  always  withheld 
him  from  seeking  any  such  sign  in  the  short  intervals 
when  he  could  have  tried  to  go  beneath  the  surface. 
On  the  other  hand,  this  apparent  indifference  piqued 
her  pride,  and  made  her  stiff,  cold,  and  almost  dis- 
dainful whenever  there  was  any  approach  between 
them.  Her  vanity  might  be  nattered  by  the  know- 
ledge that  she  was  beyond  his  reach ;  but  it  woidd 
have  been  still  more  gratified  could  she  have  dis- 
covered any  symptoms  of  pining  and  languishing  after 
her.  She  might  peep  at  him  from  under  her  eye- 
lashes in  chapel  and  in  hall ;  but  in  the  former  place 
his  gaze  always  seemed  to  be  on  the  minister,  in  the 
latter  he  showed  no  signs  of  flagging  as  a  trencher 
companion.  Both  mothers  thought  her  marvellously 
discreet ;  but  neither  beheld  the  strange  tumult  in  her 
heart,  where  were  surging  pride,  vanity,  ambition,  and 
wounded  affection. 

In  a  few  days,  Sir  Ealf  Sadler  and  his  son-in-law  Mr. 
Somer  arrived  at  Sheffield  in  order  to  take  the  charge 
of  the  prisoner  whilst  Shrewsbury  went  to  London. 
The  conferences  and  consultations  were  endless  and 
harassing,  and  it  was  finally  decided  that  the  Earl 
should  escort  her  to  "Wingfield,  and,  leaving  her  there 
under  charge  of  Sadler,  should  proceed  to  London. 
She  made  formal  application  for  Mistress  Cicely  Talbot 
to  accompany  her  as  one  of  her  suite,  and  her  sup- 
posed parents  could  not  but  give  their  consent,  but 
six  gentlewomen  had  been  already  enumerated,  and 
the  authorities  would  not  consent  to  her  taking  any 
more  ladies  with  her,  and  decreed  that  Mistress  Cicely 
must  remain  at  home. 

"  This  unkindness  has  made  the  parting  from  this 
place  less  joyous  than  I  looked  for,"  said  Mary,  "  but 


246  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

courage,  ma  mignonne.  Soon  shall  I  send  for  thee  to 
Scotland,  and  there  shalt  thou  burst  thine  husk,  and 
show  thyself  in  thy  true  colours ; "  and  turning  to 
Susan,  "  Madam,  I  must  commit  my  treasure  to  her 
who  has  so  long  watched  over  her." 

"  Your  Grace  knows  that  she  is  no  less  my  treasure," 
said  Susan. 

"  I  should  have  known  it  well,"  returned  the 
Queen,  "from  the  innocence  and  guilelessness  of  the 
damsel.  None  save  such  a  mother  as  Mistress  Talbot 
could  have  made  her  what  she  is.  Credit  me,  madam, 
I  have  looked  well  into  her  heart,  and  found  nought 
to  undo  there.  You  have  bred  her  up  better  than  her 
poor  mother  could  have  done,  and  I  gladly  entrust  her 
once  more  to  your  care,  assured  that  your  well-tried 
honour  will  keep  her  in  mind  of  what  she  is,  and  to 
what  she  may  be  called." 

"  She  shall  remember  it,  madam,"  said  Susan. 

"  When  I  am  a  Queen  once  more,"  said  Mary,  "  all 
I  can  give  will  seem  too  poor  a  meed  for  what  you 
have  been  to  my  child.  Even  as  Queen  of  Scotland 
or  England  itself,  my  power  would  be  small  in  com- 
parison with  my  will.  My  gratitude,  however,  no 
bounds  can  limit  out  to  me." 

And  with  tears  of  tenderness  and  thankfulness  she 
kissed  the  cheeks  and  lips  of  good  Mistress  Talbot, 
who  could  not  but  likewise  weep  for  the  mother  thus 
compelled  to  part  with  her  child. 

The  night  was  partly  spent  in  caresses  and  promises 
of  the  brilliant  reception  preparing  in  Scotland,  with 
auguries  of  the  splendid  marriage  in  store,  with  a 
Prince  of  Lorraine,  or  even  with  an  Archduke. 

Cis  was  still  young  enough  to  dream  of  such  a  lot 
as  an  opening  to  a  fairy  land  of  princely  glories.     If 


XVIII. ]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  247 

her  mother  knew  better,  she  still  looked  tenderly  back 
on  her  bea  u  pays  de  France  with  that  halo  of  brightness 
which  is  formed  only  in  childhood  and  youth.  Moreover, 
it  might  be  desirable  to  enhance  such  aspiration  as  might 
best  secure  the  young  princess  from  anything  derogatory 
to  her  real  rank,  while  she  was  strongly  warned  against 
betraying  it,  and  especially  against  any  assumption  of 
dignity  should  she  ever  hear  of  her  mother's  release, 
reception,  and  recognition  in  Scotland.  For  whatever 
might  be  the  maternal  longings,  it  would  be  needful  to 
feel  the  way  and  prepare  the  ground  for  the  acknow- 
ledgment of  Bothwell's  daughter  in  Scotland,  while 
the  knowledge  of  her  existence  in  England  would 
almost  surely  lead  to  her  being  detained  as  a  hostage. 
She  likewise  warned  the  maiden  never  to  regard  any 
letter  or  billet  from  her  as  fully  read  till  it  had  been 
held — without  witnesses — to  the  fire. 

Of  Humfrey  Talbot,  Queen  Mary  scorned  to  say 
anything,  or  to  utter  a  syllable  that  she  thought  a 
daughter  of  Scotland  needed  a  warning  against  a 
petty  English  sailor.  Indeed,  she  had  confidence  that 
the  youth's  parents  would  view  the  attachment  as 
quite  as  undesirable  for  him  as  for  the  young  princess, 
and  would  guard  against  it  for  his  sake  as  much  as  for 
hers. 

The  true  parting  took  place  ere  the  household  was 
astir.  Afterwards,  Mary,  fully  equipped  for  travelling, 
in  a  dark  cloth  riding-dress  and  hood,  came  across  to  the 
great  hall  of  the  Manor-house,  and  there  sat  while  each 
one  of  the  attendants  filed  in  procession,  as  it  were,  before 
her.  To  each  lady  she  presented  some  small  token 
wrought  by  her  own  hands.  To  each  gentleman  she 
also  gave  some  trinket,  such  as  the  elaborate  dress  of 
the  time  permitted,  and  to  each  serving  man  or  maid  a 


248  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

piece  of  money.  Of  each  one  she  gravely  but  gently 
besought  pardon  for  all  the  displeasures  or  offences  she 
might  have  caused  them,  and  as  they  replied,  kissing 
her  hand,  many  of  them  with  tears,  she  returned  a  kiss 
on  the  brow  to  each  woman  and  an  entreaty  to  be  re- 
membered in  their  prayers,  and  a  like  request,  with  a 
pressure  of  the  hand,  to  each  man  or  boy. 

It  must  have  been  a  tedious  ceremony,  and  yet  to 
every  one  it  seemed  as  if  Mary  put  her  whole  heart 
into  it,  and  to  any  to  whom  she  owed  special  thanks 
they  were  freely  paid. 

The  whole  was  only  over  by  an  hour  before  noon. 
Then  she  partook  of  a  manchet  and  a  cup  of  wine, 
drinking,  with  liquid  eyes,  to  the  health  and  prosperity 
of  her  good  host,  and  to  the  restoration  of  his  family 
peace,  which  she  had  so  sorely,  though  unwittingly, 
disturbed. 

Then  she  let  him  hand  her  out,  once  more  kissing 
Susan  Talbot  and  Cis,  who  was  weeping  bitterly,  and 
whispering  to  the  latter,  "  Not  over  much  grief,  ma 
petite ;  not  more  than  may  befit,  ma  mignonne." 

Lord  Shrewsbury  lifted  her  on  her  horse,  and,  with 
him  on  one  side  and  Sir  Ealf  Sadler  on  the  other,  she 
rode  down  the  long  avenue  on  her  way  to  Wingfield. 

The  Bridgefield  family  had  already  made  their 
arrangements,  and  their  horses  were  waiting  for  them 
amid  the  jubilations  of  Diccon  and  Ned.  The  Queen 
had  given  each  of  them  a  fair  jewel,  with  special 
thanks  to  them  for  being  good  brothers  to  her  dear 
Cis.  "  As  if  one  wanted  thanks  for  being  good  to 
one's  own  sister,"  said  Ned,  thrusting  the  delicate  little 
ruby  brooch  on  his  mother  to  be  taken  care  of  till  his 
days  of  foppery  should  set  in,  and  he  would  need  it 
for  cap  and  plume. 


XVIII. ]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  249 

"  Come,  Cis,  we  are  going  home  at  last,"  said 
Diccon.  "  "What !  thou  art  not  breaking  thine  heart 
over  yonder  Scottish  lady — when  we  are  going  home, 
home,  I  say,  and  have  got  rid  of  watch  and  ward  for 
ever  ?  Hurrah  !"  and  he  threw  up  his  cap,  and  was 
joined  in  the  shout  by  more  than  one  of  the  youngsters 
around,  for  Richard  and  most  of  the  elders  were 
escorting  the  Queen  out  of  the  park,  and  Mistress  Susan 
had  been  summoned  on  some  question  of  household 
stuff.  Cis,  however,  stood  leaning  against  the  balus- 
trade, over  which  she  had  leant  for  the  last  glance 
exchanged  with  her  mother,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands  and  kerchief,  weeping  bitterly,  feeling  as  if  all 
the  glory  and  excitement  of  the  last  few  weeks  had 
vanished  as  a  dream  and  left  her  to  the  dreary  dul- 
ness  of  common  life,  as  little  insignificant  Cis  Talbot 
again. 

It  was  Humfrey  who  first  came  near,  almost  timidly 
touched  her  hand,  and  said,  "  Cheer  up.  It  is  but  for 
a  little  while,  mayhap.  She  will  send  for  thee. 
Come,  here  is  thine  old  palfrey — poor  old  Dapple. 
Let  me  put  thee  on  him,  and  for  this  brief  time  let  us 
feign  that  all  is  as  it  was,  and  thou  art  my  little  sister 
once  more." 

"  I  know  not  which  is  truth  and  which  is  dreaming," 
said  Cis,  waking  up  through  her  tears,  but  resigning 
her  hand  to  him,  and  letting  him  lift  her  to  her  seat 
on  the  old  pony  which  had  been  the  playfellow  of  both. 

If  it  had  been  an  effort  to  Humfrey  to  prolong  the 
word  Cis  into  sister,  he  was  rewarded  for  it.  It  gave 
the  key-note  to  their  intercourse,  and  set  her  at  ease 
with  him  ;  and  the  idea  that  her  present  rustication 
was  but  a  comedy  instead  of  a  reality  was  consoling  in 
her  present  frame  of  mind.    Mistress  Susan,  surrounded 


250  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

with,  importunate  inquirers  as  to  household  matters, 
and  unable  to  escape  from  them,  could  only  see  that 
Humfrey  had  taken  charge  of  the  maiden,  and  trusted 
to  his  honour  and  his  tact.  This  was,  however,  only 
the  beginning  of  a  weary  and  perplexing  time.  Nothing 
could  restore  Cis  to  her  old  place  in  the  Bridgefield 
household,  or  make  her  look  upon  its  tasks,  cares,  and 
joys  as  she  had  done  only  a  few  short  months  ago. 
Her  share  in  them  could  only  be  acting,  and  she  was  too 
artless  and  simple  to  play  a  part.  Most  frequently  she 
was  listless,  dull,  and  pining,  so  much  inclined  to  despise 
and  neglect  the  ordinary  household  occupations  which 
befitted  the  daughter  of  the  family,  that  her  adopted 
mother  was  forced,  for  the  sake  of  her  incognito,  to 
rouse,  and  often  to  scold  her  when  any  witnesses  were 
present  who  would  have  thought  Mrs.  Talbot's  toleration 
of  such  conduct  in  a  daughter  suspicious  and  unnatural. 

Such  reproofs  were  dangerous  in  another  way,  for 
Humfrey  could  not  bear  to  hear  them,  and  was  driven 
nearly  to  the  verge  of  disrespect  and  perilous  approaches 
to  implying  that  Cis  was  no  ordinary  person  to  be 
sharply  reproved  when  she  sat  musing  and  sighing 
instead  of  sewing  Diccon's  shirts. 

Even  the  father  himself  could  not  well  brook  to 
hear  the  girl  blamed,  and  both  he  and  Humfrey  could 
not  help  treating  her  with  a  kind  of  deference  that 
made  the  younger  brothers  gape  and  wonder  what  had 
come  to  Humfrey  on  his  travels  "  to  make  him  treat 
our  Cis  as  a  born  princess." 

"  You  irreverent  varlets,"  said  Humfrey,  "  you  have 
yet  to  learn  that  every  woman  ought  to  be  treated  as 
a  born  princess.', 

"  By  cock  and  pie,"  said  spoilt  ISTed,  "  that  beats 
all !     One's  own  sister  !" 


XVIII.]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  251 

Whereupon  Humfrey  had  the  opportunity  of  vent- 
ing a  little  of  his  vexation  by  thrashing  his  brother  for 
his  oath,  while  sharp  Diccon  innocently  asked  if  men 
never  swore  by  anything  when  at  sea,  and  thereby 
nearly  got  another  castigation  for  irreverent  mocking 
of  his  elder  brother's  discipline. 

At  other  times  the  girl's  natural  activity  and  high 
spirits  gained  the  upper  hand,  and  she  would  abandon 
herself  without  reserve  to  the  old  homely  delights  of 
Bridgefield.  At  the  apple  gathering,  she  was  running 
about,  screaming  with  joy,  and  pelting  the  boys  with 
apples,  more  as  she  had  done  at  thirteen  than  at 
seventeen,  and  when  called  to  order  she  inconsistently 
pleaded,  "  Ah,  mother  !  it  is  for  the  last  time.  Do  but 
let  me  have  my  swing !"  putting  on  a  wistful  arid 
caressing  look,  which  Susan  did  not  withstand  when 
the  only  companions  were  the  three  brothers,  since 
Humfrey  had  much  of  her  own  unselfishness  and  self- 
command,  resulting  in  a  discretion  that  was  seldom 
at  fault. 

And  that  discretion  made  him  decide  at  a  fortnight's 
end  that  his  father  had  been  right,  and  that  it  would 
be  better  for  him  to  absent  himself  from  where  he 
could  do  no  good,  but  only  added  to  the  general  per- 
plexity, and  involved  himself  in  the  temptation  of 
betraying  the  affection  he  knew  to  be  hopeless. 

Before,  however,  it  was  possible  to  fit  out  either 
Diccon  or  the  four  men  who  were  anxious  to  go  under 
the  leadership  of  Master  Humfrey  of  Bridgefield,  the 
Earl  and  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  were  returning  fully 
reconciled.  Queen  Elizabeth  had  made  the  Caven- 
dishes ask  pardon  on  their  knees  of  the  Earl  for  their 
slanders  ;  and  he,  in  his  joy,  had  freely  forgiven  all. 
Gilbert  Talbot  and  his  wife  had  shared  in  the  general 


252  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

reconciliation.  His  elder  brother's  death  had  made 
him  the  heir  apparent,  and  all  were  coming  home 
again,  including  the  little  Lady  Arbell,  once  more  to  fill 
the  Castle  and  the  Manor-house,  and  to  renew  the  free 
hospitable  life  of  a  great  feudal  chief,  or  of  the  Queen's 
old  courtier,  with  doors  wide  open,  and  no  ward  or 
suspicion. 

Pdchard  rejoiced  that  his  sons,  before  going  abroad, 
should  witness  the  return  to  the  old  times  which  had 
been  at  an  end  before  they  could  remember  Sheffield 
distinctly.  The  whole  family  were  drawn  up  as  usual 
to  receive  them,  when  the  Earl  and  Countess  arrived 
first  of  all  at  the  Manor-house. 

The  Countess  looked  smaller,  thinner,  older,  per- 
haps a  trifle  more  shrewish,  but  she  had  evidently 
suffered  much,  and  was  very  glad  to  have  recovered 
her  husband  and  her  home. 

"  So,  Susan  Talbot,"  was  her  salutation,  "  you  have 
thriven,  it  seems.  You  have  been  playing  the  part  of 
hostess,  I  hear." 

"  Only  so  far  as  might  serve  his  Lordship,  madam." 

"  And  the  wench,  there,  what  call  you  her  ?  Ay, 
Cicely.  I  hear  the  Scottish  Queen  hath  been  cocker- 
ing her  up  and  making  her  her  bedfellow,  till  she  hath 
spoilt  her  for  a  reasonable  maiden.  Is  it  so  ?  She 
looks  it." 

"  I  trust  not,  madam,"  said  Susan. 

"  She  grows  a  strapping  wench,  and  we  must  find 
her  a  good  husband  to  curb  her  pride.  I  have  a  young 
man  already  in  my  eye  for  her." 

"  So  please  your  Ladyship,  we  do  not  think  of 
marrying  her  as  yet,"  returned  Susan,  in  consternation. 

"  Tilly  vally,  Susan  Talbot,  tell  me  not  such  folly 
as  that.     Why,  the  maid  is  over  seventeen  at  the  very 


XVIII.]  CIS  OR  SISTEE.  253 

least !  Save  for  all  the  coil  tins  Scottish  woman  and 
her  crew  have  made,  I  should  have  seen  her  well 
mated  a  year  ago." 

Here  was  a  satisfactory  prospect  for  Mistress  Susan, 
bred  as  she  had  been  to  unquestioning  submission  to 
the  Countess.  There  was  no  more  to  be  said  on  that 
occasion,  as  the  great  lady  passed  on  to  bestow  her 
notice  on  others  of  her  little  court. 

Humfrey  meantime  had  been  warmly  greeted  by 
the  younger  men  of  the  suite,  and  one  of  them 
handed  him  a  letter  which  filled  him  with  eagerness. 
It  was  from  an  old  shipmate,  who  wrote,  not  without 
sanction,  to  inform  him  that  Sir  Francis  Drake  was 
fitting  out  an  expedition,  with  the  full  consent  of  the 
Queen,  to  make  a  descent  upon  the  Spaniards,  and  that 
there  was  no  doubt  that  if  he  presented  himself  at 
Plymouth,  he  would  obtain  either  the  command,  or  at 
any  rate  the  lieutenancy,  of  one  of  the  numerous  ships 
which  were  to  be  commissioned.  Humfrey  was  before 
all  else  a  sailor.  He  had  made  no  engagement  to  Sir 
John  Xorreys,  and  many  of  the  persons  engaged  on 
this  expedition  were  already  known  to  him.  It  was 
believed  that  the  attack  was  to  be  upon  Spain  itself, 
and  the  notion  filled  him  with  ardour  and  excitement 
that  almost  drove  Cicely  out  of  his  mind,  as  he  laid 
the  proposal  before  his  father. 

Eichard  was  scarcely  less  excited.  "You  young 
lads  are  in  luck,"  he  said.  "  I  sailed  for  years  and 
never  had  more  than  a  chance  brush  with  the  Don ; 
never  the  chance  of  bearding  him  on  his  own  shores  !" 

"  Come  with  us,  then,  father,"  entreated  Humfrey. 
"  Sir  Francis  would  be  overjoyed  to  see  you.  You 
would  get  the  choicest  ship  to  your  share." 

"  Xay,  nay,  my  boy,  tempt  me  not ;  I  cannot  leave 


254  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

your  mother  to  meet  all  the  coils  that  may  fall  in  her 
way !  No ;  I'm  too  old.  I've  lost  my  sea  legs.  I 
leave  thee  to  win  the  fame,  son  Humfrey!" 

The  decision  was  thus  made,  and  Humfrey  and 
Diccon  were  to  start  together  for  London  first,  and  then 
for  Plymouth,  the  second  day  after  a  great  festival  for 
the  wedding  of  the  little  Alethea,  daughter  of  Gilbert, 
Lord  Talbot — still  of  very  tender  age — to  the  young 
heir  of  Arundel.  The  Talbot  family  had  been  pre- 
cluded from  holding  festival  for  full  fourteen  years, 
or  indeed  from  entertaining  any  guests,  save  the  Com- 
missioners sent  down  to  confer  from  time  to  time  with 
the  captive  Queen,  so  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  they 
were  in  the  highest  possible  spirits  at  their  release,  and 
determined  to  take  the  first  opportunity  of  exercising 
the  gorgeous  hospitality  of  the  Tudor  times. 

Posts  went  out,  riding  round  all  the  neighbourhood 
with  invitations.  The  halls  were  swept  and  adorned 
with  the  best  suit  of  hangings.  All  the  gentlemen, 
young  and  old,  all  the  keepers  and  verdurers,  were  put 
in  requisition  to  slaughter  all  the  game,  quadruped  and 
biped,  that  fell  in  their  way,  the  village  women  and 
children  were  turned  loose  on  the  blackberries,  cran- 
berries, and  bilberries,  and  all  the  ladies  and  serving- 
women  were  called  on  to  concoct  pasties  of  many  stories 
high,  subtilties  of  wonderful  curiosity,  sweetmeats  and 
comfits,  cakes  and  marchpanes  worthy  of  Camacho's 
wedding,  or  to  deck  the  halls  with  green  boughs,  and 
weave  garlands  of  heather  and  red  berries. 

Cis  absolutely  insisted,  so  that  the  heads  of  the 
household  gave  way,  on  riding  out  with  Bichard  and 
Humfrey  when  they  had  a  buck  to  mark  down  in 
Eivelin  Chase.  And  she  set  her  heart  on  going  out  to 
gather  cranberries  in  the  park,  flinging  herself  about 


XVIII.]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  255 

with  petulant  irritation  when  Dame  Susan  showed 
herself  unwilling  to  permit  a  proceeding  which  was 
thought  scarcely  becoming  in  any  wTell-born  damsel  of 
the  period.  *  Ah,  child,  child  !  thou  wilt  have  to 
bear  worse  restraints  than  these,"  she  said,  "if  ever 
thou  comest  to  thy  greatness." 

Cis  made  no  answer,  but  threw  herself  into  a  chair 
and  pouted. 

The  next  morning  she  did  not  present  herself  at  the 
usual  hour ;  but  just  as  the  good  mother  was  about  to 
go  in  quest  of  her  to  her  chamber,  a  clear  voice  came 
singing  up  the  valley — 

"  Berries  to  sell !  berries  to  sell ! 
Berries  fresh  from  moorland  fell!" 

And  there  stood  a  girl  in  peasant  dress,  with  short 
petticoats,  stout  shoes  soaked  in  dew,  a  round  face 
under  black  brows,  and  cheeks  glowing  in  morning 
freshness;  and  a  boy  swung  the  other  handle  of  thy 
basket  overflowing  with  purple  berries. 

It  was  but  a  shallow  disguise  betrayed  by  the  two 
roguish  faces,  and  the  good  mother  was  so  pleased  to 
see  Cis  smile  merrily  again,  that  she  did  not  scold  over 
the  escapade. 

Yet  the  inconsistent  girl  hotly  refused  to  go  up  to 
the  castle  and  help  to  make  pastry  for  her  mother's 
bitter  and  malicious  foe,  and  Sir  Eichard  shook  his  head 
and  said  she  was  in  the  right  on't,  and  should  not  be 
compelled.  So  Susan  found  herself  making  lame 
excuses,  which  did  not  avert  a  sharp  lecture  from  the 
Countess  on  the  cockering  of  her  daughter. 


236  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEK  XIX. 

THE   CLASH   OF   SWORDS. 

Festivals  in  the  middle  ages  were  conducted  by  day 
rather  than  by  night,  and  it  was  a  bright  noonday  sun 
that  shone  upon  the  great  hall  at  Sheffield,  bedecked 
with  rich  tapestry  around  the  dais,  where  the  floor  was 
further  spread  with  Eastern  carpets.  Below,  the 
garniture  of  the  walls  was  of  green  boughs,  interspersed 
between  stag's  antlers,  and  the  floor  was  strewn,  in 
ancient  fashion,  with  the  fragrant  rush. 

All  the  tables,  however,  were  spread  with  pure 
white  napery,  the  difference  being  only  in  texture,  but 
the  higher  table  rejoiced  in  the  wonderful  extravagance 
of  silver  plates,  while  the  lower  had  only  trenchers. 
As  to  knives,  each  guest  brought  his  or  her  own,  and 
forks  were  not  yet,  but  bread,  in  long  fingers  of  crust, 
was  provided  to  a  large  amount  to  supply  the  want. 
Splendid  salt-cellars,  towering  as  landmarks  to  the 
various  degrees  of  guests,  tankards,  gilt  and  parcel  gilt 
or  shining  with  silver,  perfectly  swarmed  along  the 
board,  and  the  meanest  of  the  guests  present  drank 
from  silver-rimmed  cups  of  horn,  while  for  the  very 
greatest  were  reserved  the  tall,  slender,  opal  Venice 
glasses,  recently  purchased  by  the  Countess  in  London. 

The  pies,  the  glory  of  Yorkshire,  surpassed  them- 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  257 

selves.  The  young  bride  and  bridegroom  had  the 
felicity  of  contemplating  one  whose  crust  was  elevated 
into  the  altar  of  Hymen,  with  their  own  selves  united 
thereat,  attended  by  numerous  Cupids,  made  chiefly  in 
paste  and  sugar,  and  with  little  wings  from  the 
feathers  of  the  many  slaughtered  fowl  within.  As  to 
the  jellies,  the  devices  and  the  subtilties,  the  pen  re- 
fuses to  describe  them !  It  will  be  enough  to  say  that 
the  wedding  itself  was  the  least  part  of  the  entertain- 
ment. It  was  gone  through  with  very  few  spectators 
in  the  early  morning,  and  the  guests  only  assembled 
afterwards  to  this  mighty  dinner  at  a  somewhat  earlier 
hour  than  they  would  now  to  a  wedding  breakfast. 
The  sewer  marshalled  all  the  guests  in  pairs  according 
to  their  rank,  having  gone  through  the  roll  with  his 
mistress,  just  as  the  lady  of  the  house  or  her  aide-de- 
camp pairs  the  guests  and  puts  cards  in  their  plates  in 
modern  times.  Every  one  was  there  who  had  any 
connection  with  the  Earl ;  and  Cis,  though  flashes  of 
recollection  of  her  true  claims  would  come  across  her 
now  and  then,  was  unable  to  keep  from  being  eager 
about  her  first  gaiety.  Perhaps  the  strange  life  she 
had  led  at  Buxton,  as  it  receded  in  the  distance, 
became  more  and  more  unreal  and  shadowy,  and 
she  was  growing  back  into  the  simple  Cicely  she  had 
always  believed  herself.  It  was  with  perfectly  girlish 
natural  pleasure  that  she  donned  the  delicate  sky-blue 
farthingale,  embroidered  with  white  lilies  by  the  skilful 
hands  of  the  captive  Queen,  and  the  daintily-fashioned 
little  cap  of  Flanders  lace,  and  practised  the  pretty 
dancing  steps  which  the  Queen  had  amused  herself  with 
teaching  her  long  ere  they  knew  they  were  mother  and 
daughter. 

As  Talbots,  the  Bridget!  eld  family  were  spectators 
vol.  i.  s 


258  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

of  the  wedding,  after  which,  one  by  one,  the  seneschal 
paired  them  off.  Eichard  was  called  away  first,  then 
a  huge  old  Yorkshire  knight  came  and  bore  away 
Mrs.  Susan,  and  after  an  interval,  during  which  the 
young  people  entertained  hopes  of  keeping  together  in 
enviable  obscurity,  the  following  summons  to  the  board 
was  heard  in  a  loud  voice — 

"  Master  Antony  Babington,  Esquire,  of  Dethick ! 
Mistress  Cicely  Talbot,  of  Bridgefield." 

Humfrey's  brow  grew  dark  with  disappointment, 
but  cleared  into  a  friendly  greeting,  as  there  advanced 
a  tall,  slender  gentleman,  of  the  well-known  fair,  pink 
and  white  colouring,  and  yellow  hair,  apparelled  point 
device  in  dark  green  velvet,  with  a  full  delicately 
crimped  ruff,  bowing  low  as  he  extended  his  hand  to 
take  that  of  the  young  lady,  exchanging  at  the  same 
time  a  friendly  greeting  with  his  old  comrade,  before 
leading  Cis  to  her  place. 

On  the  whole,  she  was  pleased.  Tete-a-tetes  with 
Humfrey  were  dreadfully  embarrassing,  and  she  felt  life 
so  flat  without  her  nocturnal  romance  that  she  was 
very  glad  to  have  some  one  who  would  care  to  talk  to 
her  of  the  Queen.  In  point  of  fact,  such  conversation 
was  prohibited.  In  the  former  days,  when  there  had 
been  much  more  intercourse  between  the  Earl's  house- 
hold and  the  neighbourhood,  regular  cautions  had  been 
given  to  every  member  of  it  not  to  discuss  the  prisoner 
or  make  any  communication  about  her  habits.  The 
younger  generation  who  had  grown  up  in  the  time  of 
the  closer  captivity  had  never  been  instructed  in  these 
laws,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  hardly  saw  any  one. 
Antony  and  Cicely  were  likewise  most  comfortably 
isolated,  for  she  was  flanked  by  a  young  esquire,  who 
had  no  eyes  nor  ears  save  for  the  fair  widow  of  sixteen 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  259 

whom  be  had  just  led  in,  and  Antony,  by  a  fat  and 
deaf  lady,  whose  only  interest  was  in  tasting  as  many 
varieties  of  good  cheer  as  she  could,  and  trying  to 
discover  how  and  of  what  they  were  compounded. 
Knowing  Mistress  Cicely  to  be  a  member  of  the  family, 
she  once  or  twice  referred  the  question  to  her  across 
Antony,  but  getting  very  little  satisfaction,  she  gave  up 
the  young  lady  as  a  bad  specimen  of  housewifery,  and 
was  forced  to  be  content  with  her  own  inductions. 

i  There  was  plenty  of  time  for  Antony  to  begin  with, 
"  Are  there  as  many  conies  as  ever  in  the  chase  ?"  and 
to  begin  on  a  discussion  of  all  the  memories  connected 
with  the  free  days  of  childhood,  the  blackberry  and 
bilberry  gatherings,  the  hide-and-seek  in  the  rocks  and 
heather,  the  consternation  when  little  Dick  was  lost, 
the  audacious  comedy  with  the  unsuspected  spectators, 
and  all  the  hundred  and  one  recollections,  less  memor- 
able perhaps,  but  no  less  delightful  to  both.  It  was 
only  thus  gradually  that  they  approached  their  recent 
encounter  in  the  Castleton  Cavern,  and  Antony  ex- 
plained how  he  had  burnt  to  see  his  dear  Queen  and 
mistress  once  again,  and  that  his  friends,  Tichborne  and 
the  rest,  were  ready  to  kiss  every  footstep  she  had 
taken,  and  almost  worshipped  him  and  John  Eyre  for 
contriving  this  mode  of  letting  them  behold  the  hitherto 
unknown  object  of  their  veneration. 

All  that  passionate,  chivalrous  devotion,  which  in 
Sidney,  Spenser,  and  many  more  attached  itself  to  their 
great  Gloriana,  had  in  these  young  men,  all  either 
secretly  or  openly  reconciled  to  Borne,  found  its  object 
in  that  rival  in  whom  Edmund  Spenser  only  beheld 
his  false  Duessa  or  snowy  Florimel.  And,  indeed, 
romance  had  in  her  a  congenial  heroine,  who  needed 
little  self-blinding  so  to  appear.     Her  beauty  needed 


260  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

no  illusion  to  be  credited.  Even  at  her  age,  now  over 
forty,  the  glimpse  they  had  had  in  the  fitful  torchlight 
of  the  cavern  had  been  ravishing,  and  had  confirmed 
all  they  had  ever  heard  of  her  witching  loveliness; 
nor  did  they  recollect  how  that  very  obscurity  might 
have  assisted  it. 

To  their  convictions,  she  was  the  only  legitimate 
sovereign  in  the  island,  a  confessor  for  their  beloved 
Church,  a  captive  princess  and  beauty  driven  from  her 
throne,  and  kept  in  durance  by  a  usurper.  Thus  every 
generous  feeling  was  enlisted  in  her  cause,  with  nothing 
to  counterbalance  them  save  the  English  hatred  of 
the  Spaniard,  with  whom  her  cause  was  inextricably 
linked;  a  dread  of  what  might  be  inflicted  on  the 
country  in  the  triumph  of  her  party ;  and  in  some,  a 
strange  inconsistent  personal  loyalty  to  Elizabeth ;  but 
all  these  they  were  instructed  to  believe  mere  tempta- 
tions and  delusions  that  ought  to  be  brushed  aside  as 
cobwebs. 

Antony's  Puritan  tutor  at  Cambridge  had,  as  Eichard 
Talbot  had  foreboded,  done  little  but  add  to  his  detesta- 
tion of  the  Eeformation,  and  he  had  since  fallen  in 
with  several  of  the  seminary  priests  who  were  circulat- 
ing in  England.  Some  were  devoted  and  pious  men,  who 
at  the  utmost  risk  went  from  house  to  house  to  con- 
firm the  faith  and  constancy  of  the  old  families  of 
their  own  communion.  The  saintly  martyr  spirit  of 
one  of  these,  whom  Antony  met  in  the  house  of  a 
kinsman  of  his  mother,  had  so  wrought  on  him  as  to 
bring  him  heart  and  soul  back  to  his  mother's  pro- 
fession, in  which  he  had  been  secretly  nurtured  in 
early  childhood,  and  which  had  received  additional 
confirmation  at  Sheffield,  where  Queen  Mary  and  her 
]adies  had  always  shown  that  they  regarded  him  as  one 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  261 

of  themselves,  sure  to  return  to  them  when  he  was  his 
own  master.  It  was  not,  however,  of  this  that  he 
spoke  to  Cis,  but  whatever  she  ventured  to  tell  him  of 
the  Queen  was  listened  to  with  delight  as  an  extreme 
favour,  which  set  her  tongue  off  with  all  the  eager 
pleasure  of  a  girl,  telling  what  she  alone  can  tell. 

All  through  the  banquet  they  talked,  for  Babington 
had  much  to  ask  of  all  the  members  of  the  household 
whom  he  had  known.  And  after  the  feast  was  over 
and  the  hall  was  cleared  for  dancing,  Antony  wTas 
still,  by  etiquette,  her  partner  for  the  evening.  The 
young  bride  and  bridegroom  had  first  to  perform  a 
stately  pavise  before  the  whole  assembly  in  the  centre 
of  the  floor,  in  which,  poor  young  tilings,  they  acquitted 
themselves  much  as  if  they  were  in  the  dancing- 
master's  hands.  Then  her  father  led  out  his  mother, 
and  vice  versd.  The  bridegroom  had  no  grandparents, 
but  the  stately  Earl  handed  forth  his  little  active  wiry 
Countess,  bowing  over  her  with  a  grand  stiff  devotion 
as  genuine  and  earnest  as  at  their  wedding  twenty 
years  previously,  for  the  reconciliation  had  been  com- 
plete, and  had  restored  all  her  ascendency  over  him. 
Theirs,  as  Mistress  Susan  exultingly  agreed  with  a 
Hardwicke  kinsman  not  seen  for  many  years,  was  the 
grandest  and  most  featly  of  all  the  performances.  All 
the  time  each  pair  were  performing,  the  others  were 
awaiting  their  turn,  the  ladies  in  rows  on  benches  or 
settles,  the  gentlemen  sometimes  standing  before  them, 
sometimes  sitting  on  cushions  or  steps  at  their  feet, 
sometimes  handing  them  comfits  of  sugar  or  dried  fruits. 

The  number  of  gentlemen  was  greatly  in  excess, 
so  that  Humfrey  had  no  such  agreeable  occupation, 
but  had  to  stand  in  a  herd  among  other  young  men, 
watching  with  no  gratified  eye  Antony  Babington,  in  a 


262  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

graceful  attitude  at  Cicely's  feet,  while  she  conversed 
with  him  with  untiring  animation. 

Humfrey  was  not  the  only  one  to  remark  them. 
Lady  Shrewsbury  nodded  once  or  twice  to  herself,  as 
one  who  had  discovered  what  she  sought,  and  the  next 
morning  a  mandate  arrived  at  Bridgefield  that  Master 
Eichard  and  his  wife  should  come  to  speak  with  my 
Lady  Countess. 

Eichard  and  his  son  were  out  of  reach,  having 
joined  a  party  of  the  guests  who  had  gone  out  hunting. 
Susan  had  to  go  alone,  for  she  wished  to  keep  Cicely 
as  much  as  possible  out  of  her  Ladyship's  sight,  so  she 
left  the  girl  in  charge  of  her  keys,  so  that  if  father 
brought  home  any  of  the  hunters  to  the  midday  meal, 
tankards  and  glasses  might  not  be  lacking. 

The  Countess's  summons  was  to  her  own  bower,  a 
sort  of  dressing-room,  within  her  great  state  bed-room, 
and  with  a  small  glazed  window  looking  down  into  the 
great  hall  where  her  ladies  sat  at  work,  whence  she 
could  on  occasion  call  down  orders  or  directions  or 
reproofs.  Susan  had  known  what  it  was  to  stand  in 
dread  of  such  a  window  at  Chatsworth  or  Hardwicke, 
whence  shrill  shrieks  of  objurgation,  followed  sometimes 
by  such  missiles  as  pincushions,  shoes,  or  combs.  How- 
ever the  window  was  now  closed,  and  my  Lady  sat  in 
her  arm-chair,  as  on  a  throne,  a  stool  being  set,  to 
which  she  motioned  her  kinswoman. 

"  So  !  Susan  Talbot,"  she  said,  "  I  have  sent  for  you 
to  do  you  a  good  turn,  for  you  are  mine  own  kins- 
woman of  the  Hardwicke  blood,  and  have  ever  been 
reasonably  humble  and  dutiful  towards  me  and  my 
Lord." 

Mrs.  Talbot  did  not  by  any  means  view  this  speech 
as  the  insult  it  would  in  these  days  appear  to  a  lady 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  263 

of  her  birth  and  position,  but  accepted  it  as  the  compli- 
ment it  was  intended  to  be. 

"Thus,"  continued  Lady  Shrewsbury,  "I  have 
always  cast  about  how  to  marry  that  daughter  of  yours 
fitly.  It  would  have  been  done  ere  now,  had  not  that 
Scottish  woman's  tongue  made  mischief  between  me 
and  my  Lord,  but  I  am  come  home  to  rule  my  own 
house  now,  and  mine  own  blood  have  the  first  claim 
on  me." 

The  alarm  always  excited  by  a  summons  to  speak 
with  my  Lady  Countess  began  to  acquire  definite  form, 
and  Susan  made  answer,  "Your  Ladyship  is  very 
good,  but  I  doubt  me  whether  my  husband  desires  to 
bestow  Cicely  in  marriage  as  yet." 

"  He  hath  surely  received  no  marriage  proposals  for 
her  without  my  knowledge  or  my  Lord's,"  said  Bess 
of  Hardwicke,  who  was  prepared  to  strain  all  feudal 
claims  to  the  uttermost. 

"  Xo,  madam,  but " 

"  Tell  me  not  that  you  or  he  have  the  presumption 
to  think  that  my  son  "William  Cavendish  or  even 
Edward  Talbot  will  ever  cast  an  eye  on  a  mere  portion- 
less country  maid,  not  comely,  nor  even  like  the  Hard- 
wickes  or  the  Talbots.  If  I  thought  so  for  a  moment, 
never  shouldst  thou  darken  these  doors  again,  thou 
ungrateful,  treacherous  woman." 

"  Xeither  of  us  ever  had  the  thought,  far  less  the 
wish,"  said  Susan  most  sincerely. 

"Well,  thou  wast  ever  a  simple  woman,  Susan 
Talbot,"  said  the  great  lady,  thereby  meaning  truthful, 
"  so  I  will  e'en  take  thy  word  for  it,  the  more  readily 
that  I  made  contracts  for  both  the  lads  when  I  was  at 
court.  As  to  Dick  Talbot  not  being  fain  to  bestow  her, 
I  trow  that  is  because  ye  have   spent  too  much   on 


264  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

your  long-legged  sons  to  be  able  to  lay  down  a  portion 
for  her,  though  she  be  your  only  daughter.     Anan  ?" 

For  though  this  was  quite  true,  Susan  feeling  that 
it  was  not  the  whole  truth,  made  but  faint  response. 
However,  the  Countess  went  on,  expecting  to  over- 
power her  with  gratitude.  "  The  gentleman  I  mean  is 
willing  to  take  her  in  her  smock,  and  moreover  his 
wardship  and  marriage  were  granted  to  my  Lord  by  her 
Majesty.     Thou  knowest  whom  I  mean." 

She  wanted  to  hear  a  guess,  and  Susan  actually 
foreboded  the  truth,  but  was  too  full  of  dismay  and 
perplexity  to  do  anything  but  shake  her  head  as  one 
puzzled. 

"What  think'st  thou  of  Mr.  Babington  ?"  triumph- 
antly exclaimed  the  Countess. 

"  Mr.  Babington  !"  returned  Susan.  "  But  he  is  no 
longer  a  ward !" 

"No.  We  had  granted  his  marriage  to  a  little 
niece  of  my  Lord  Treasurer's,  but  she  died  ere  coming 
to  age.  Then  Tom  Batcliffe's  wife  would  have  him  for 
her  daughter,  a  mere  babe.  But  for  that  thou  and 
thine  husband  have  done  good  service  while  evil 
tongues  kept  me  absent,  and  because  the  wench  comes 
of  our  own  blood,  we  are  willing  to  bestow  her  upon 
him,  he  showing  himself  willing  and  content,  as  befits 
a  lad  bred  in  our  own  household." 

"Madam,  we  are  much  beholden  to  you  and  my 
Lord,  but  sure  Mr.  Babington  is  more  inclined  to  the 
old  faith." 

"Tush,  woman,  what  of  that?  Thou  mayst  say 
the  same  of  half  our  Northern  youth !  They  think  it 
grand  to  dabble  with  seminary  priests  in  hiding,  and 
talk  big  about  their  conscience  and  the  like,  but  when 
they've  seen  a  neighbour  or  two  pay  down  a  heavy 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  265 

fine  for  recusancy,  they  think  Letter  of  it,  and  a  good 
wife  settles  their  brains  to  jog  to  church  to  hear  the 
parson  with  the  rest  of  them." 

"  I  fear  me  Cis  is  over  young  to  settle  any  one's 
mind,"  said  Susan. 

"  She  is  seventeen  if  she  is  a  day,"  said  my  Lady, 
"  and  I  was  a  wedded  wife  ere  I  saw  my  teens. 
Moreover,  I  will  say  for  thee,  Susan,  that  thou  hast 
bred  the  girl  as  becomes  one  trained  in  my  household, 
and  unless  she  have  been  spoiled  by  resort  to  the 
Scottish  woman,  she  is  like  to  make  the  lad  a  moder- 
ately good  wife,  having  seen  nought  of  the  unthrifty 
modes  of  the  fine  court  dames,  who  queen  it  with 
standing  ruffs  a  foot  high,  and  coloured  with  turmeric,  so 
please  you,  but  who  know  no  more  how  to  bake  a  march- 
pane, or  roll  puff  paste,  than  yonder  messan  dog  !" 

"  She  is  a  good  girl,"  said  Susan,  "  but " 

"What  has  the  foolish  wife  to  object  now?"  said 
the  Countess.  "  I  tell  you  I  marked  them  both  last 
eve,  and  though  I  seldom  turn  my  mind  to  such  follies, 
I  saw  the  plain  tokens  of  love  in  every  look  and 
gesture  of  the  young  springald.  Xay.  'twas  his  coun- 
tenance that  put  it  into  my  mind,  for  I  am  even  too 
good  -  natured  —  over  good  -  natured,  Susan  Talbot. 
How  now,"  at  some  sound  below,  springing  to  the  little 
window  and  flinging  it  back,  "  you  lazy  idle  wenches 
— what  are  you  doing  there  ?  Is  my  work  to  stand 
still  while  you  are  toying  with  yon  vile  whelp  ?  He 
is  tangling  the  yarn,  don't  you  see,  thou  purblind 
Jane  Dacre,  with  no  eyes  but  for  ogling.  There ! 
there  !  Eound  the  leg  of  the  chair,  don't  you  see  !" 
and  down  flew  a  shoe,  which  made  the  poor  dog  howl, 
and  his  mistress  catch  him  up.  "  Put  him  down  !  put 
him    down   this   instant !      Thomas  !      Davy !      Here, 


266  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

hang  him  up,  I  say/'  cried  this  over  good-natured  lady, 
interspersing  her  commands  with  a  volley  of  sixteenth 
century  Billingsgate,  and  ending  by  declaring  that 
nothing  fared  well  without  her,  and  hurrying  off  to 
pounce  down  on  the  luckless  damsels  who  had  let 
their  dog  play  with  the  embroidery  yarn  destined  to 
emblazon  the  tapestry  of  Chatsworth  with  the  achieve- 
ments of  Juno.  The  good  nature  was  so  far  veritable 
that  when  she  found  little  harm  done,  and  had  vented 
her  wrath  in  strong  language  and  boxes  on  the  ear, 
she  would  forget  her  sentence  upon  the  poor  little 
greyhound,  which  Mrs.  Jane  Dacre  had  hastily  con- 
veyed out  of  sight  during  her  transit  downstairs. 
Susan  was  thus,  to  her  great  relief,  released  for  the 
present,  for  guests  came  in  before  my  Lady  had  fully 
completed  her  objurgations  on  her  ladies,  the  hour  of 
noon  was  nigh  at  hand,  sounds  in  the  court  betokened 
the  return  of  the  huntsmen,  and  Susan  effected  her 
escape  to  her  own  sober  old  palfrey — glad  that  she 
would  at  least  be  able  to  take  counsel  with  her  hus- 
band on  this  most  inconvenient  proposition. 

He  came  out  to  meet  her  at  the  court  door,  having 
just  dismounted,  and  she  knew  by  his  face  that  she 
had  not  to  give  him  the  first  intelligence  of  the  diffi- 
culty in  which  they  stood. 

My  Lord  had  himself  spoken  to  him,  like  my  Lady 
expecting  him  to  be  enchanted  at  the  prospect  of  so 
good  a  match  for  his  slenderly-portioned  daughter,  for 
Dethick  was  a  fair  estate,  and  the  Babington  family, 
though  not  ennobled,  fully  equal  to  a  younger  branch 
of  the  Talbots.  However,  Richard  had  had  a  less  un- 
comfortable task  than  his  wife,  since  the  Earl  was  many 
degrees  more  reasonable  than  the  Countess.  He  had 
shown  himself  somewhat  offended  at  not  meeting  more 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  267 

alacrity  in  the  acceptance  of  his  proposal,  when  Eichard 
had  objected  on  account  of  the  young  gentleman's 
Popish  proclivities ;  but  boldly  declared  that  he  was 
quite  certain  that  the  stripling  had  been  entirely  cured. 

This  point  of  the  narrative  had  just  been  reached 
when  it  was  interrupted  by  a  scream,  and  Cicely  came 
Hying  into  the  hall,  crying,  "  0  father,  father,  stop 
them !  Humfrey  and  Mr.  Babirjgton !  They  are 
killing  one  another." 

"AYhere?"  exclaimed  Eichard,  catching  up  his 
sword. 

"  In  the  Pleasance,  father  !  Oh,  stop  them  !  They 
will  slay  one  another  !  They  had  their  swords  ! "  and 
as  the  father  was  already  gone,  she  threw  herself  into 
the  mother's  arms,  hid  her  face  and  sobbed  with  frig] it 
as  scarce  became  a  princess  for  whom  swords  were  for 
the  first  time  crossed.  "  Fear  not !  Father  will  stop 
them,"  said  the  mother,  with  confidence  she  could  only 
keep  up  outwardly  by  the  inward  cry,  "  God  protect 
my  boy.  Father  will  come  ere  they  can  hurt  one 
another." 

"But  how  came  it  about?"  she  added,  as  with  an 
arm  round  the  trembling  girl,  she  moved  anxiously  for- 
ward to  know  the  issue. 

"  Oh  !  I  know  not.  'Twas  Humfrey  fell  on  him. 
Hark !" 

"  Tis  father's  voice,"  said  Susan.  "  Thank  God  !  I 
know  by  the  sound  no  harm  is  done  !  But  how  was 
it,  child  r 

Cis  told  with  more  coherence  now,  but  the  tears  in 
her  eyes  and  colour  deepening :  "  I  was  taking  in 
Humfrey's  kerchiefs  from  the  bleaching  on  the  grass, 
when  Master  Babington — he  had  brought  me  a  plume 
of  pheasant's  feathers  from  the  hunting,  and  he  began. 


268  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

0  mother,  is  it  sooth  ?  He  said  my  Lord  had  sent 
him." 

"  That  is  true,  my  child,  but  you  know  we  have  no 
choice  but  to  refuse  thee." 

"  Ay,  mother,  and  Antony  knows." 

"  Not  thy  true  birth,  child  ?" 

"  Not  that,  but  the  other  story.  So  he  began  to 
say  that  if  I  were  favourable  —  Mother,  do  men 
always  do  like  that?"  Hiding  her  face  against  the 
trusty  breast,  "  And  when  I  drew  back,  and  said  I 
could  not  and  would  not  hearken  to  such  folly " 

"  That  was  well,  dear  child." 

"  He  would  have  it  that  I  should  have  to  hear  him, 
and  he  went  down  on  his  knee,  and  snatched  at  my 
hand.  And  therewith  came  a  great  howl  of  rage  like 
an  angry  lion,  and  Humfrey  bounded  right  over  the 
sweetbrier  fence,  and  cried  out,  '  Off,  fellow !  No 
Papist  traitor  knave  shall  meddle  with  her.'  And 
then  Antony  gave  him  back  the  lie  for  calling  him 
traitor,  and  they  drew  their  swords,  and  I  ran  away  to 
call  father,  but  oh !  mother,  I  heard  them  clash  !"  and 
she  shuddered  again. 

"  See,"  said  Susan,  as  they  had  reached  the  corner 
of  a  thick  screen  of  yew-trees,  "  all  is  safe.  There  they 
stand,  and  father  between  them  speaking  to  them.  No, 
we  will  not  go  nearer,  since  we  know  that  it  is  well 
with  them.  Men  deal  with  each  other  better  out  of 
women's  earshot.  Ah,  see,  there  they  are  giving  one 
another  their  hands.     All  is  over  now." 

"  Humfrey  stands  tall,  grave,  and  stiff !  He  is  only 
doing  it  because  father  bids  him,"  said  Cicely.  "  An- 
tony is  much  more  willing." 

"  Poor  Humfrey !  he  knows  better  than  Antony 
how  vain  any  hope  must  be  of  my  silly  little  princess," 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWOBDS.  269 

said  Susan,  with  a  sigh  for  her  boy.  "  Come  in,  child, 
and  set  these  locks  in  order.  The  hour  of  noon  hath 
long  been  over,  and  father  hath  not  yet  dined." 

So  they  flitted  out  of  sight  as  Eichard  and  his  son 
turned  from  the  place  of  encounter,  the  former  saying, 
"  Son  Humfrey,  I  had  deemed  thee  a  wiser  man." 

"  Sir,  how  could  a  man  brook  seeing  that  fellow  on 
his  knee  to  her  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  be  debarred  from 
my  sweet  princess  myself,  but  I  must  see  her  beset  by 
a  Papist  and  traitor,  fostered  and  encouraged  too?" 

"  And  thou  couldst  not  rest  secure  in  the  utter 
impossibility  of  her  being  given  to  him  ?  He  is  as 
much  out  of  reach  of  her  as  thou  art." 

"  He  has  secured  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  on  his  side  !" 
growled  Humfrey. 

"  My  Lord  is  not  an  Amurath,  nor  my  Lady  either," 
said  Eichard,  shortly.  "As  long  as  I  pass  for  her 
father  I  have  power  to  dispose  of  her,  and  I  am  not 
going  to  give  another  woman's  daughter  away  without 
her  consent." 

"  Yet  the  fellow  may  have  her  ear,"  said  Humfrey. 
"  I  know  him  to  be  popishly  inclined,  and  there  is  a 
web  of  those  Eomish  priests  all  over  the  island,  whereof 
this  Queen  holds  the  strands  in  her  fingers,  captive 
though  she  be.  I  should  not  wonder  if  she  had  devised 
this  fellow's  suit." 

"  This  is  the  very  madness  of  jealousy,  Humfrey/' 
said  his  father.  "  The  whole  matter  was,  as  thy  mother 
and  thy  Lord  have  both  told  me,  simply  a  device  of  my 
Lady  Countess's  own  brain." 

"  Babington  took  to  it  wondrous  naturally,"  muttered 
Humfrey. 

"  That  may  be ;  but  as  for  the  lady  at  Wingfield, 
her  talk  to  our  poor  maid  hath  been  all  of  archdukes 


270  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

and  dukes.  She  is  far  too  haughty  to  think  for  a 
moment  of  giving  her  daughter  to  a  mere  Derbyshire 
esquire,  not  even  of  noble  blood.  You  may  trust  her 
for  that." 

This  pacified  Humfrey  for  a  little  while,  especially 
as  the  bell  was  clanging  for  the  meal  which  had  been 
unusually  deferred,  and  he  had  to  hurry  away  to  remove 
certain  marks,  which  were  happily  the  result  of  the 
sweetbrier  weapons  instead  of  that  of  Babington. 

That  a  little  blood  had  been  shed  was  shown  by 
the  state  of  his  sword  point,  but  Antony  had  disclaimed 
being  hurt  when  the  master  of  the  house  came  up,  and 
in  the  heat  of  the  rebuke  the  father  and  son  had  hardly 
noticed  that  he  had  thrown  a  kerchief  round  his  left 
hand  ere  he  moved  away. 

Before  dinner  was  over,  word  was  brought  in  from 
the  door  that  Master  Will  Cavendish  wanted  to  speak 
to  Master  Humfrey.  The  ladies'  hearts  were  in  their 
mouths,  as  it  were,  lest  it  should  be  to  deliver  a  cartel, 
and  they  looked  to  the  father  to  interfere,  but  he  sat 
still,  contenting  himself  with  saying,  as  his  son  craved 
license  to  quit  the  board,  "  Use  discretion  as  well  as 
honour." 

They  were  glad  that  the  next  minute  Humfrey  came 
back  to  call  his  father  to  the  door,  where  Will  Caven- 
dish sat  on  horseback.  He  had  come  by  desire  of 
Babington,  who  had  fully  intended  that  the  encounter 
should  be  kept  secret,  but  some  servant  must  have  been 
aware  of  it  either  from  the  garden  or  the  park,  and  the 
Countess  had  got  wind  of  it.  She  had  summoned 
Babington  to  her  presence,  before  the  castle  barber 
had  finished  dealing  with  the  cut  in  his  hand,  and 
the  messenger  reported  that  "  my  Lady  was  in  one  of 
her  raging  fits,"  and  talked  of  throwing  young  Hum- 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  2*71 

frey  into  a  dungeon,  if  not  having  him  hung  for  his 
insolence. 

Babington,  who  had  talked  to  his  friends  of  a  slip 
with  his  hunting-knife  while  disembowelling  a  deer, 
was  forced  to  tell  the  fact  in  haste  to  Cavendish,  the 
nearest  at  hand,  begging  him  to  hurry  down  and  advise 
Humfrey  to  set  forth  at  once  if  he  did  not  wish  his 
journey  to  be  unpleasantly  delayed. 

"  My  Lord  is  unwilling  to  cross  my  mother  at  the 
present,"  said  young  Cavendish  with  half  a  smile  ;  "  and 
though  it  be  not  likely  that  much  harm  should  come 
of  the  matter,  yet  if  she  laid  hands  on  Humfrey  at  the 
present  moment,  there  might  be  hindrance  and  vexa- 
tion, so  it  may  be  well  for  him  to  set  forth,  in  case 
Tony  be  unable  to  persuade  my  Lady  that  it  is  nought." 

Will  Cavendish  had  been  a  friendly  comrade  of 
both  Humfrey  and  Antony  in  their  boyish  days,  and 
his  warning  was  fully  to  be  trusted. 

"  I  know  not  why  I  should  creep  off  as  though  I 
had  done  aught  that  was  evil,"  said  Humfrey,  drawing 
himself  up. 

"  Well,"  said  Will,  "  my  Lord  is  always  wroth  at 
brawling  with  swords  amongst  us,  and  he  might — my 
mother  egging  him  on — lay  you  by  the  heels  in  the 
strong  room  for  a  week  or  so.  Nay,  for  my  part,  me- 
thinks  'twas  a  strange  requital  of  poor  Babington's 
suit  to  your  sister !  Had  she  been  your  love  instead 
of  your  sister  there  might  have  been  plainer  excuse, 
but  sure  you  wot  not  of  aught  against  Tony  to  warrant 
such  heat." 

"  He  was  importuning  her  when  she  would  have 
none  of  him,"  said  Humfrey,  feeling  the  perplexity  he 
had  drawn  on  himself. 

"  Will  says  well,"  added  the  father,  feeling  that  it 


272  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

by  all  means  behoved  them  all  to  avert  inquiry  into 
the  cause  of  Humfrey's  passion,  since  neither  Cicely's 
birth  nor  Antony's  perilous  inclinations  could  be 
pleaded.  "  To  be  detained  a  week  or  two  might  hin- 
der thy  voyage.  So  we  will  speed  thee  on  thy  way 
instantly." 

"  Tell  me  not  where  he  halts  for  the  night,"  said 
Cavendish  significantly.  "  Fare  thee  well,  Humfrey.  I 
would  return  ere  I  am  missed.  I  trust  thou  wilt  have 
made  the  Spaniard's  ships  smoke,  and  weighted  thy 
pouch  with  his  dollars,  before  we  see  thee  again." 

"  Fare  thee  well,  Will,  and  thank  thee  kindly,"  re- 
turned Humfrey,  as  they  wrung  each  other's  hands. 
"  And  tell  Antony  that  I  thank  him  heartily  for  his 
thought,  and  owe  him  a  good  turn." 

"  That  is  well,  my  son,"  said  Eichard,  as  Cavendish 
rode  out  of  the  court.  "  Babington  is  both  hot  and 
weak-headed,  and  I  fear  me  is  in  the  toils  of  the  Scot- 
tish lady ;  but  he  would  never  do  aught  that  he  held 
as  disloyal  by  a  comrade.  I  wish  I  could  say  the 
same  of  him  anent  the  Queen." 

"  And  you  will  guard  her  from  him,  sir  ? "  earnestly 
said  Humfrey. 

"  As  I  would  from — I  would  have  said  Frenchman 
or  Spaniard,  but,  poor  maid,  that  may  only  be  her  hap, 
if  her  mother  should  come  to  her  throne  again ; "  and 
as  Humfrey  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  the  improbability, 
"  But  we  must  see  thee  off,  my  boy.  Poor  mother  ! 
this  hurries  the  parting  for  her.      So  best,  mayhap." 

It  was  hastily  arranged  that  Humfrey  should  ride 
off  at  once,  and  try  to  overtake  a  squire  who  had  been 
at  the  festival,  and  had  invited  him  to  turn  a  little  out 
of  his  road  and  spend  a  day  or  two  at  his  house  when 
leaving  home.     Humfrey  had  then  declined,  but  hos- 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  273 

pitality  in  those  days  was  elastic,  and  he  had  no  doubt 
of  a  welcome.  His  father  would  bring  Diccon  and  his 
baggage  to  join  him  there  the  next  day. 

Thus  there  were  only  a  very  few  minutes  for  adieux, 
and,  as  Richard  had  felt,  this  was  best  for  all,  even  the 
anxious  mother.  Cicely  ran  about  with  the  rest  in  the 
stress  of  preparation,  until  Humfrey,  hurrying  upstairs, 
met  her  coming  down  with  a  packet  of  his  lace  cuffs 
in  her  hands. 

He  caught  the  hand  on  the  balusters,  and  cried, 
"  My  princess,  my  princess,  and  art  thou  doing  this  for 
me?" 

"  Thou  hast  learnt  fine  compliments,  Humfrey,"  said 
Cis,  trying  to  do  her  part  with  quivering  lips. 

"  Ah,  Cis  !  thou  knowest  but  too  well  what  hath 
taught  me  no  fine  words  but  plain  truth.  Fear  me 
not,  I  know  what  is  due  to  thee.  Cis,  wTe  never  used 
to  believe  the  tales  and  ballads  that  told  of  knights 
worshipping  princesses  beyond  their  reach,  without  a 
hope  of  more  than  a  look — not  even  daring  to  wish 
for  more ;  Cis,  it  is  very  truth.  Be  thou  where  thou 
wilt,  with  whom  thou  wilt,  there  will  be  one  ready  to 
serve  thee  to  the  uttermost,  and  never  ask  aught — 
aught  but  such  remembrance  as  may  befit  the  brother 
of  thy  childhood " 

"  Mistress  Cis,"  screamed  one  of  the  maids,  "  madam 
is  waiting  for  those  cuffs." 

Cis  ran  down,  but  the  squeeze  and  kiss  on  the 
hand  remained,  as  it  were,  imprinted  on  it,  far  more 
than  the  last  kiss  of  all,  which  he  gave,  as  both  knew 
and  felt,  to  support  his  character  as  a  brother  before 
the  assembled  household. 


vol.  I. 


274  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

WINGFIELD    MANOR. 

The  drawing  of  swords  was  not  regarded  as  a  heinous 
offence  in  Elizabethan  days.  It  was  not  likely,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  to  result  in  murder,  and  was 
looked  on  much  as  boxing  is,  or  was  recently,  in 
public  schools,  as  an  evidence  of  high  spirit,  and  a 
means  of  working  off  ill-blood. 

Lady  Shrewsbury  was,  however,  much  incensed  at 
such  a  presumptuous  reception  of  the  suitor  whom  she 
had  backed  with  her  would-be  despotic  influence;  and 
in  spite  of  Babington's  making  extremely  light  of  it, 
and  declaring  that  he  had  himself  been  too  forward  in 
his  suit,  and  the  young  lady's  apparent  fright  had 
made  her  brother  interfere  over  hastily  for  her  protec- 
tion, four  yeomen  were  despatched  by  her  Ladyship 
with  orders  instantly  to  bring  back  Master  Humfrey 
Talbot  to  answer  for  himself. 

They  were  met  by  Mr.  Talbot  with  the  sober  reply 
that  Master  Humfrey  was  already  set  forth  on  his 
journey.  The  men,  having  no  orders,  never  thought 
of  pursuing  him,  and  after  a  short  interval  Eichard 
thought  it  expedient  to  proceed  to  the  Manor-house  to 
explain  matters. 

The  Countess   swooped   upon   him   in  one  of  her 


XX.]  WIXGFIELD  MANOR.  275 

ungovernable  furies — one  of  those  of  which  even 
Gilbert  Talbot  avoided  writing  the  particulars  to  his 
father — abusing  his  whole  household  in  general,  and 
his  son  in  particular,  in  the  most  outrageous  manner, 
for  thus  receiving  the  favour  she  had  done  to  their 
beggarly,  ill-favoured,  ill-nurtured  daughter.  Eichard 
stood  still  and  grave,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  as  unmoved 
and  tranquil  as  if  he  had  been  breasting  a  stiff  breeze 
on  the  deck  of  his  ship,  with  good  sea-room  and  con- 
fidence in  all  his  tackle,  never  even  attempting  to 
open  his  lips,  but  looking  at  the  Countess  with  a 
steady  gaze  which  somehow  disconcerted  her,  for  she 
demanded  wherefore  he  stared  at  her  like  one  of  his 
clumsy  hinds. 

"  Because  her  Ladyship  does  not  know  what  she  is 
saying,"  he  replied. 

"  Darest  thou  !  Thou  traitor,  thou  viper,  thou 
unhanged  rascal,  thou  mire  under  my  feet,  thou  blot 
on  the  house  !  Darest  thou  beard  me — me  ?"  screamed 
my  Lady.      "  Darest  thou — I  say " 

If  the  sailor  had  looked  one  whit  less  calm  and 
resolute,  my  Lady  would  have  had  her  clenched  fist  on 
his  ear,  or  her  talons  in  his  beard,  but  he  was  like  a 
rock  against  which  the  billows  expended  themselves, 
and  after  more  of  the  tempest  than  need  stain  these 
pages,  she  deigned  to  demand  what  he  meant  or  had 
to  say  for  his  son. 

"  Solely  this,  madam,  that  my  son  had  never  even 
heard  of  Babington's  suit,  far  less  that  he  had  your 
Ladyship's  good-will.  He  found  him  kneeling  to 
Cicely  in  the  garden,  and  the  girl,  distressed  and  dis- 
mayed at  his  importunity.  There  were  hot  words  and 
drawn  blades.  That  was  the  whole.  I  parted  them 
and  saw  them  join  hands." 


276  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"So  saith  Master  Babington.  He  is  willing  to 
overlook  the  insult,  so  will  I  and  my  Lord,  if  you  will 
atone  for  it  by  instantly  consenting  to  this  espousal." 

"  That,  madam,  I  cannot  do." 

She  let  him  say  no  more,  and  the  storm  had  begun 
to  rage  again,  when  Babington  took  advantage  of  an 
interval  to  take  breath,  and  said,  "  I  thank  you, 
madam,  and  pray  you  peace.  If  a  little  space  be 
vouchsafed  me,  I  trust  to  show  this  worthy  gentleman 
cause  wherefore  he  should  no  longer  withhold  his  fair 
damsel  from  me." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  Countess.  "Art  thou  so  con- 
fident ?  I  marvel  what  better  backer  thou  wouldst 
have  than  me  !  So  conceited  of  themselves  are  young 
men  now-a-days,  they  think,  forsooth,  their  own  merits 
and  graces  should  go  farther  in  mating  them  than  the 
word  and  will  of  their  betters.  There,  you  may  go  ! 
I  wash  my  hands  of  the  matter.  One  is  as  ingrate  as 
the  other." 

Both  gentlemen  accepted  this  amiable  dismissal, 
each  hoping  that  the  Countess  might  indeed  have 
washed  her  hands  of  their  affairs.  On  his  departure 
Eichard  was  summoned  into  the  closet  of  the  Earl, 
who  had  carefully  kept  out  of  the  way  during  the 
uproar,  only  trusting  not  to  be  appealed  to.  "  My 
good  cousin,"  he  asked,  "what  means  this  broil  be- 
tween the  lads  ?     Hath  Babington  spoken  sooth  ?" 

"  He  hath  spoken  well  and  more  generously  than, 
mayhap,  I  thought  he  would  have  done,"  said  Eichard. 

"  Ay ;  you  have  judged  the  poor  youth  somewhat 
hardly,  as  if  the  folly  of  pagedom  never  were  out- 
grown," said  the  Earl.  "  I  put  him  under  governor- 
ship such  as  to  drive  out  of  his  silly  pate  all  the  wiles 
that  he  was  fed  upon  here.     You  will  see  him  prove 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOR.  277 

liimself  an  honest  Protestant  and  good  subject  yet,  and 
be  glad  enough  to  give  him  your  daughter.  So  he  was 
too  hot  a  lover  for  Master  Humfrey's  notions,  eh  ? "  said 
my  Lord,  laughing  a  little.  "  The  varlet !  He  was  over 
prompt  to  protect  his  sister,  yet  'twas  a  fault  on  the 
right  side,  and  I  am  sorry  there  was  such  a  noise  about 
it  that  he  should  have  gone  without  leave-takings." 

"  He  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  your  Lordship's  good- 
ness. I  shall  go  after  him  to-morrow  and  take  his 
mails  and  little  Diccon  to  him." 

"  That  is  well,"  said  the  Earl.  "  And  give  him 
this,  with  his  kinsman's  good  wishes  that  he  may  win 
ten  times  more  from  the  Dod,"  pushing  towards 
Eichard  a  packet  of  twenty  broad  gold  pieces,  stamped 
with  Queen  Bess  in  all  her  glory ;  and  then,  after 
receiving  due  thanks  for  the  gift,  which  was  meant  half 
as  friendly  feudal  patronage  from  the  head  of  the  family, 
half  as  a  contribution  to  the  royal  service,  the  Earl 
added,  "  I  would  crave  of  thee,  Eichard,  to  extend  thy 
journey  to  Wingfield.  Here  are  some  accounts  of  which 
I  could  not  sooner  get  the  items,  to  be  discharged  be- 
tween me  and  the  lady  there — and  I  would  fain  send 
thee  as  the  man  whom  I  can  most  entirely  trust.  I 
will  give  thee  a  pass,  and  a  letter  to  Sadler,  bidding 
him  admit  thee  to  her  presence,  since  there  are  matters 
here  which  can  sooner  be  discharged  by  one  word  of 
mouth  than  by  many  weary  lines  of  writing." 

Good  Master  Eichard's  conscience  had  little  occa- 
sion to  wince,  yet  he  could  not  but  feel  somewhat 
guilty  when  this  opportune  commission  was  given  to 
him,  since  the  Earl  gave  it  unaware  of  his  secret 
understanding  with  the  captive.  He  accepted  it, 
however,  without  hesitation,  since  he  was  certainly 
not  going  to  make  a  mischievous  use  of  it,  and  bent 


2*78  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

all  his  mind  to  "understand  the  complicated  accounts 
that  he  was  to  lay  before  the  Queen  or  her  comptroller 
of  the  household. 

He  had  still  another  interview  to  undergo  with 
Antony  Babington,  who  overtook  him  on  his  way 
home  through  the  crackling  leaves  that  strewed  the 
avenue,  as  the  October  twilight  fell.  His  recent  con- 
duct towards  Humfrey  gave  him  a  certain  right  to 
friendly  attention,  though,  as  the  frank-hearted  mariner 
said  to  himself,  it  was  hard  that  a  plain  man,  who 
never  told  a  lie,  nor  willingly  had  a  concealment  of  his 
own,  should  be  involved  in  a  many-sided  secret  like 
this,  a  sort  of  web,  where  there  was  no  knowing 
whether  straining  the  wrong  strand  might  not  amount 
to  a  betrayal,  all  because  he  had  rescued  an  infant,  and 
not  at  once  proclaimed  her  an  alien. 

"  Sir,"  said  Antony,  "  if  my  impatience  to  accost  the 
maiden  we  wot  of,  when  I  saw  her  alone,  had  not  mis- 
led me,  I  should  have  sought  you  first  to  tell  you  that 
no  man  knows  better  than  I  that  my  Lady  Countess's 
good  will  is  not  what  is  wanting  to  forward  my  suit." 

"  Knowing  then  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  or  right 
to  dispose  of  her,  thine  ardent  wooing  was  out  of  place," 
said  Eichard. 

"  I  own  it,  sir,  though  had  I  but  had  time  I  should 
have  let  the  maiden  know  that  I  sought  her  subject  to 
other  approval,  which  I  trust  to  obtain  so  as  to  satisfy 
you." 

"  Young  man,"  said  Eichard,  "  listen  to  friendly 
counsel,  and  meddle  not  in  perilous  matters.  I  ask 
thee  not  whether  Dethick  hath  any  commerce  with 
Wingfield ;  but  I  warn  thee  earnestly  to  eschew  begin- 
ning again  that  which  caused  the  trouble  of  thy  child- 
hood.    Thou  mayst  do  it  innocently,  seeking  the  con- 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOR.  279 

sent  of  the  lady  to  this  courtship  of  thine  ;  but  I  tell 
thee,  as  one  who  knows  more  of  the  matter  than  thou 
canst,  that  thou  wilt  only  meet  with  disappointment." 

"Hath  the  Queen  other  schemes  for  her?"  asked 
Babington,  anxiously;  and  Eichard,  thinking  of  the 
vista  of  possible  archdukes,  replied  that  she  had;  but 
that  he  was  not  free  to  speak,  though  he  replied  to 
Babington's  half- uttered  question  that  his  son  Humfrey 
was  by  no  means  intended. 

"  Ah  ! "  cried  Antony,  "  you  give  me  hope,  sir.  I 
will  do  her  such  service  that  she  shall  refuse  me 
nothing !  Sir !  do  you  mock  me  !"  he  added,  with  a 
fierce  change  of  note. 

"  My  poor  lad,  I  could  not  but  laugh  to  think  what 
a  simple  plotter  you  are,  and  what  fine  service  you  will 
render  if  thou  utterest  thy  vows  to  the  very  last  person 
who  should  hear  them  !  Credit  me,  thou  wast  never 
made  for  privy  schemes  and  conspiracies,  and  a  Queen 
who  can  only  be  served  by  such,  is  no  mistress  for  thee. 
Thou  wilt  but  run  thine  own  neck  into  the  noose,  and 
belike  that  of  others." 

.  "  That  will  I  never  do,"  quoth  Antony.      "  I  may 
peril  myself,  but  no  others." 

"  Then  the  more  you  keep  out  of  secrets  the  better. 
Thou  art  too  open-hearted  and  unguarded  for  them  I 
So  speaks  thy  well-wisher,  Antony,  whose  friendship 
thou  hast  won  by  thine  honourable  conduct  towards 
my  rash  boy ;  though  I  tell  thee  plainly,  the  maiden  is 
not  for  thee,  whether  as  Scottish  or  English,  Cis  or  Bride." 

So  they  parted  at  the  gate  of  the  park,  the  younger 
man  full  of  hope  and  confidence,  the  elder  full  of 
pitying  misgiving. 

He  was  too  kind-hearted  not  to  let  Cicely  know 
that  he  should  see  her  mother,  or  to  refuse  to  take  a 


280  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

billet  for  her, — a  little  formal  note  necessarily  silent  on 
the  matter  at  issue,  since  it  had  to  be  laid  before  the 
Earl,  who  smiled  at  the  scrupulous  precaution,  and  let 
it  pass. 

Thus  the  good  father  parted  with  Humfrey  and 
Diccon,  rejoicing  in  his  heart  that  they  would  fight 
with  open  foes,  instead  of  struggling  with  the  meshes 
of  perplexity,  which  beset  all  concerned  with  Queen 
Mary,  and  then  he  turned  his  horse's  head  towards 
Wingfield  Manor,  a  grand  old  castellated  mansion  of 
the  Talbots,  considered  by  some  to  excel  even  Sheffield. 
It  stood  high,  on  ground  falling  very  steeply  from  the 
walls  on  three  sides,  and  on  the  south  well  fortified, 
court  within  court,  and  each  with  a  deep-arched  and 
portcullised  gateway,  with  loopholed  turrets  on  either 
side,  a  porter's  lodge,  and  yeomen  guards. 

Mr.  Talbot  had  to  give  his  name  and  quality,  and 
show  his  pass,  at  each  of  these  gates,  though  they  were 
still  guarded  by  Shrewsbury  retainers,  with  the  talbot 
on  their  sleeves.  He  was,  however,  received  with  the 
respect  and  courtesy  due  to  a  trusted  kinsman  of  their 
lord;  and  Sir  Ealf  Sadler,  a  thin,  elderly,  careworn 
statesman,  came  to  greet  him  at  the  door  of  the  hall, 
and  would  only  have  been  glad  could  he  have  remained 
a  week,  instead  of  for  the  single  night  he  wished  to 
spend  at  Wingfield. 

Sadler  was  one  of  Mary's  most  gentle  and  courteous 
warders,  and  he  spoke  of  her  with  much  kindness, 
regretting  that  her  health  had  again  begun  to  suffer 
from  the  approach  of  winter,  and  far  more  from 
disappointment. 

The  negotiation  with  Scotland  on  her  behalf  was 
now  known  to  have  been  abortive.  James  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  faction  most  hostile  to  her,  and 


XX.]  WING  FIELD  MANOR.  281 

though  his  mother  still  clung  with  desperate  hope  to 
the  trust  that  he,  at  least,  was  labouring  on  her  behalf, 
no  one  else  believed  that  he  cared  for  anything  but  his 
own  security,  and  even  she  had  been  forced  to  perceive 
that  her  liberation  was  again  adjourned. 

"  And  what  think  you  was  her  thought  when  she 
found  that  road  closed  up  ?"  said  Sir  Ealf.  "  Why,  for 
her  people  !  Her  gentlewoman,  Mrs.  Mowbray,  hath,  it 
seems,  been  long  betrothed." 

"Ay,  to  Gilbert  Curll,  the  long -backed  Scotch 
Secretary.  They  were  to  be  wed  at  Stirling  so  soon  as 
she  arrived  there  again." 

"  Yea  ;  but  when  she  read  the  letter  that  overthrew 
her  hopes,  what  did  she  say  but  that  '  her  servants 
must  not  grow  gray-headed  with  waiting  till  she  was 
set  free ' !  So  she  would  have  me  make  the  case  known 
to  Sir  Parson,  and  we  had  them  married  in  the  parish 
church  two  days  since,  they  being  both  good  Protestants." 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  her  kindness  of  heart  is 
true,"  said  Eicharcl.  "  The  poor  folk  at  Sheffield  and 
Ecclesfield  will  miss  her  plentiful  almsgiving." 

"  Some  say  it  ought  to  be  hindered,  for  that  it  is 
but  a  purchasing  of  friends  to  her  cause,"  said  Sadler  ; 
"  but  I  have  not  the  heart  to  check  it,  and  what  could 
these  of  the  meaner  sort  do  to  our  Queen's  prejudice  ? 
I  take  care  that  nothing  goes  among  them  that  could 
hide  a  billet,  and  that  none  of  her  people  have  private 
speech  with  them,  so  no  harm  can  ensue  from  her 
bounty." 

A  message  here  came  that  the  Queen  was  ready  to 
admit  Mr.  Talbot,  and  Eichard  found  himself  in  her 
presence  chamber,  a  larger  and  finer  room  than  that  in 
the  lodge  at  Sheffield,  and  with  splendid  tapestry 
hangings  and  plenishings ;  but  the  windows  all  looked 


282  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

into  the  inner  quadrangle,  instead  of  on  the  expanse 
of  park,  and  thus,  as  Mary  said,  she  felt  more  entirely 
the  prisoner.  This,  however,  was  not  perceptible  at 
the  time,  for  the  autumn  evening  had  closed  in ;  there 
were  two  large  fires  burning,  one  at  each  end  of  the 
room,  and  tall  tapestry-covered  screens  and  high-backed 
settles  were  arranged  so  as  to  exclude  the  draughts 
around  the  hearth,  where  Mary  reclined  on  a  couch- 
like chair.  She  looked  ill,  and  though  she  brightened 
with  her  sweet  smile  to  welcome  her  guest,  there 
were  dark  circles  round  her  eyes,  and  an  air  of  de- 
jection in  her  whole  appearance.  She  held  out  her 
hand  graciously,  as  Eichard  approached,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  his  host ;  he  put  his  knee  to  the  ground 
and  kissed  it,  as  she  said,  "You  must  pardon  me, 
Mr.  Talbot,  for  discourtesy,  if  I  am  less  agile  than 
when  we  were  at  Buxton.  You  see  my  old  foe  lies  in 
wait  to  plague  me  with  aches  and  pains  so  soon  as  the 
year  declines." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  your  Grace  thus,"  returned 
Eichard,  standing  on  the  step. 

"  The  while  I  am  glad  to  see  you  thus  well,  sir. 
And  how  does  the  good  lady,  your  wife,  and  my  sweet 
playfellow,  your  daughter  ?" 

"  Well,  madam,  I  thank  your  Grace,  and  Cicely  has 
presumed  to  send  a  billet  by  mine  hand." 

"  Ah !  the  dear  bairnie,"  and  all  the  Queen's  con- 
summate art  could  not  repress  the  smile  of  gladness 
and  the  movement  of  eager  joy  with  which  she  held  out 
her  hand  for  it,  so  that  Eichard  regretted  its  extreme 
brevity  and  unsatisfying  nature,  and  Mary,  recollecting 
herself  in  a  second,  added,  smiling  at  Sadler,  *  Mr. 
Talbot  knows  how  a  poor  prisoner  must  love  the  pretty 
playfellows  that  are  lent  to  her  for  a  time." 


XX.]  WINGFEELD  MAXOE.  283 

Sir  Half's  presence  hindered  any  more  intimate 
conversation,  and  Richard  had  certainly  committed  a 
solecism  in  giving  Cicely's  letter  the  precedence  over 
the  Earl's.  The  Queen,  however,  had  recalled  her 
caution,  and  inquired  for  the  health  of  the  Lord  and 
Lady,  and,  with  a  certain  sarcasm  on  her  lips,  trusted 
that  the  peace  of  the  family  was  complete,  and  that 
they  were  once  more  setting  Hallamshire  the  example 
of  living  together  as  household  doves. 

Her  hazel  eyes  meantime  archly  scanned  the  face 
of  Richard,  who  could  not  quite  forget  the  very  un- 
dovelike  treatment  he  had  received,  though  he  could 
and  did  sturdily  aver  that  "  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  were 
perfectly  reconciled,  and  seemed  most  happy  in  their 
reunion." 

\Yell-a-day,  let  us  trust  that  there  will  be  no 
further  disturbances  to  their  harmony,"  said  Mary,  "  a 
prayer  I  may  utter  most  sincerely.  Is  the  little 
Arbell  come  back  with  them  ? " 

"Yea,  madam." 

"  And  is  she  installed  in  my  former  rooms,  with  the 
canopy  over  her  cradle  to  befit  her  strain  of  royalty  ? " 

"  I  think  not,  madam.  Meseems  that  my  Lady 
Countess  hath  seen  reason  to  be  heedful  on  that  score. 
My  young  lady  hath  come  back  with  a  grave  goicvernante, 
who  makes  her  read  her  primer  and  sew  her  seam,  and 
save  that  she  sat  next  my  Lady  at  the  wedding  feast 
there  is  little  difference  made  between  her  and  the 
other  grandchildren." 

The  Queen  then  inquired  into  the  circumstances  of 
the  wedding  festivities  with  the  interest  of  one  to 
whom  most  of  the  parties  were  more  or  less  known, 
and  who  seldom  had  the  treat  of  a  little  feminine 
gossip.     She   asked   who   had   been  "  her  little  Cis's 


284  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

partner/'  and  when  she  heard  of  Babington,  she  said, 
"  Ah  ha,  then,  the  poor  youth  has  made  his  peace  with 
my  Lord  ? " 

"  Certes,  madam,  he  is  regarded  with  high  favour 
by  both  my  Lord  and  my  Lady,"  said  Eichard,  heartily 
wishing  himself  rid  of  his  host. 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,"  said  Mary  ;  "  I  was  afraid 
that  his  childish  knight-errantry  towards  the  captive 
dame  had  damaged  the  poor  stripling's  prospects  for 
ever.  He  is  our  neighbour  here,  and  I  believe  Sir 
Ealf  regards  him  as  somewhat  perilous." 

"  Nay,  madam,  if  my  Lord  of  Shrewsbury  be  satis- 
fied with  him,  so  surely  ought  I  to  be,"  said  Sir  Ealf. 

Nothing  more  of  importance  passed  that  night. 
The  packet  of  accounts  was  handed  over  to  Sir 
Andrew  Melville,  and  the  two  gentlemen  dismissed 
with  gracious  good-nights. 

Eichard  Talbot  was  entirely  trusted,  and  when  the 
next  morning  after  prayers,  breakfast,  and  a  turn  among 
the  stables,  it  was  intimated  that  the  Queen  was  ready 
to  see  him  anent  my  Lord's  business,  Sir  Ealf  Sadler, 
who  had  his  week's  report  to  write  to  the  Council, 
requested  that  his  presence  might  be  dispensed  with, 
and  thus  Mr.  Talbot  was  ushered  into  the  Queen's  closet 
without  any  witnesses  to  their  interview  save  Sir 
Andrew  Melville  and  Marie  de  Courcelles.  The 
Queen  was  seated  in  a  large  chair,  leaning  against 
cushions,  and  evidently  in  a  good  deal  of  pain,  but,  as 
Eichard  made  his  obeisance,  her  eyes  shone  as  she 
quoted  two  lines  from  an  old  Scotch  ballad — 

"  '  Madame,  how  does  my  gay  goss  hawk  1 
Madame,  how  does  my  doo  ? ' 

Now  can  I  hear  what  I  hunger  for !  " 


XX.]  WING  FIELD  MAN01I.  285 

••  My  gay  gosshawk,  madam,  is  flown  to  join  Sir 
Francis  Drake  at  Plymouth,  and  taken  his  little 
brother  with  him.  I  come  now  from  speeding  them 
as  far  as  Derby." 

"  Ah  !  you  must  not  ask  me  to  pray  for  success  to 
them,  my  good  sir,  —  only  that  there  may  be  a  time 
when  nations  may  be  no  more  divided,  and  I  fear  me 
we  shall  not  live  to  see  it.  And  my  doo — my  little 
Cis,  did  she  weep  as  became  a  sister  for  the  bold 
laddies  ? " 

"  She  wept  many  tears,  madam,  but  we  are  sore 
perplexed  by  a  matter  that  I  must  lay  before  your 
Grace.  My  Lady  Countess  is  hotly  bent  on  a  match 
between  the  maiden  and  young  Babington." 

"  Babington ! "  exclaimed  the  Queen,  with  the 
lioness  sparkle  in  her  eye.  "  You  refused  the  fellow 
of  course  ? " 

"  Flatly,  madam,  but  your  Grace  knows  that  it  is 
ill  making  the  Countess  accept  a  denial  of  her  will." 

Mary  laughed  "  Ah  ha  !  methought,  sir,  you  looked 
somewhat  as  if  you  had  had  a  recent  taste  of  my  Lord 
of  Shrewsbury's  dove.  But  you  are  a  man  to  hold 
your  own  sturdy  will,  Master  Eichard,  let  Lord  or 
Lady  say  what  they  choose." 

"  I  trust  so,  madam,  I  am  master  of  mine  own 
house,  and,  as  I  should  certainly  not  give  mine  own 
daughter  to  Babington,  so  shall  I  guard  your  Grace's." 

"  You  would  not  give  the  child  to  him  if  she  were 
your  own  ? " 

"  No,  madam." 

"  And  wherefore  not  ?  Because  he  is  too  much 
inclined  to  the  poor  prisoner  and  her  faith  ?  Is  it  so, 
sir  ?  " 

"  Your  Grace  speaks  the  truth  in  part,"  said  Eichard, 


286  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHA1\ 

and  then  with  effort  added,  "  and  likewise,  madam, 
with  your  pardon,  I  would  say  that  though  I  verily 
believe  it  is  nobleness  of  heart  and  spirit  that 
inclines  poor  Antony  to  espouse  your  Grace's  cause, 
there  is  to  my  mind  a  shallowness  and  indiscretion 
about  his  nature,  even  when  most  in  earnest,  such  as 
would  make  me  loath  to  commit  any  woman,  or  any 
secret,  to  his  charge." 

"  You  are  an  honest  man,  Mr.  Talbot,"  said 
Mary ;  "1  am  glad  my  poor  maid  is  in  your  charge. 
Tell  me,  is  this  suit  on  his  part  made  to  your 
daughter  or  to  the  Scottish  orphan  ? " 

"  To  the  Scottish  orphan,  madam.  Thus  much  he 
knows,  though  by  what  means  I  cannot  tell,  unless 
it  be  through  that  kinsman  of  mine,  who,  as  I 
told  your  Grace,  saw  the  babe  the  night  I  brought 
her  in." 

"  Doubtless,"  responded  Mary.  "  Take  care  he 
neither  knows  more,  nor  hints  what  he  doth  know  to 
the  Countess." 

"  So  far  as  I  can,  I  will,  madam,"  said  Eichard, 
"  but  his  tongue  is  not  easy  to  silence ;  I  marvel  that 
he  hath  not  let  the  secret  ooze  out  already." 

"  Proving  him  to  have  more  discretion  than  you 
gave  him  credit  for,  my  good  sir,"  said  the  Queen, 
smiling.  "  Eefuse  him,  however,  staunchly,  grounding 
your  refusal,  if  it  so  please  you,  on  the  very  causes 
for  which  I  should  accept  him,  were  the  lassie  verily 
what  he  deems  her,  my  ward  and  kinswoman.  Nor 
do  you  accede  to  him,  whatever  word  or  token  he  may 
declare  that  he  brings  from  me,  unless  it  bear  this  mark," 
and  she  hastily  traced  a  peculiar-twisted  form  of  M. 
"  You  know  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  seen  it,  madam,"  said  Eichard,  gravely, 


XX.]  WINGFULD  MANOB.  287 

for  he  knew  it  as  the  letter  which  had  been  traced  on 
the  child's  shoulders. 

"  Ah,  good  Master  Richard,"  she  said,  with  a  sweet 
and  wistful  expression,  looking  up  to  his  face  in  plead- 
ing, and  changing  to  the  familiar  pronoun,  "  thou  likest 
not  my  charge,  and  I  know  that  it  is  hard  on  an  up- 
right man  like  thee  to  have  all  this  dissembling  thrust 
on  thee,  but  what  can  a  poor  captive  mother  do  but 
strive  to  save  her  child  from  an  unworthy  lot,  or  from 
captivity  like  her  own  ?  I  ask  thee  to  say  nought, 
that  is  all,  and  to  shelter  the  maid,  who  hath  been  as 
thine  own  daughter,  yet  a  little  longer.  Thou  wilt  not 
deny  me,  for  her  sake." 

"  Madam,  I  deny  nothing  that  a  Christian  man  and 
my  Queen's  faithful  servant  may  in  honour  do.  Your 
Grace  has  the  right  to  choose  your  own  daughter's  lot, 
and  with  her  I  will  deal  as  you  direct  me.  But, 
madam,  were  it  not  well  to  bethink  yourself  whether 
it  be  not  a  perilous  and  a  cruel  policy  to  hold  out  a 
bait  to  nourish  hope  in  order  to  bind  to  your  service  a 
foolish  though  a  generous  youth,  whose  devotion  may, 
after  all,  work  you  and  himself  more  ill  than  good  ? " 

Mary  looked  a  good  deal  struck,  and  waved  back 
her  two  attendants,  who  were  both  startled  and  offended 
at  what  Marie  de  Courcelles  described  as  the  English- 
man's brutal  boldness. 

"  Silence,  dear  friends,"  said  she.  "  Would  that  I 
had  always  had  counsellors  who  would  deal  with  me 
with  such  honour  and  disinterestedness.  Then  should 
I  not  be  here." 

However,  she  then  turned  her  attention  to  the 
accounts,  where  Sir  Andrew  Melville  was  ready  to 
question  and  debate  every  item  set  down  by  Shrews- 
bury's   steward ;    while    his    mistress   showed  herself 


288  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

liberal  and  open-handed.  Indeed  she  had  considerable 
command  of  money  from  her  French  dowry,  the  proceeds 
of  which  were,  in  spite  of  the  troubles  of  the  League, 
regularly  paid  to  her,  and  no  doubt  served  her  well  in 
maintaining  the  correspondence  which,  throughout  her 
captivity,  eluded  the  vigilance  of  her  keepers.  On 
taking  leave  of  her,  which  Eichard  Talbot  did  before 
joining  his  host  at  the  mid-clay  meal,  she  reiterated  her 
thanks  for  his  care  of  her  daughter,  and  her  charges  to 
let  no  persuasion  induce  him  to  consent  to  Babington's 
overtures,  adding  that  she  hoped  soon  to  obtain  per- 
mission to  have  the  maiden  amongst  her  authorised 
attendants.  She  gave  him  a  billet,  loosely  tied  with 
black  floss  silk  and  unsealed,  so  that  if  needful,  Sadler 
and  Shrewsbury  might  both  inspect  the  tender,  playful, 
messages  she  wrote  to  her  " mignonne"  and  which  she 
took  care  should  not  outrun  those  which  she  had  often 
addressed  to  Bessie  Pierrepoint. 

Cicely  was  a  little  disappointed  when  she  first 
opened  the  letter,  but  ere  long  she  bethought  herself 
of  the  directions  she  had  received  to  hold  such  notes 
to  the  fire,  and  accordingly  she  watched,  waiting  even 
till  the  next  day  before  she  could  have  free  and  soli- 
tary access  to  either  of  the  two  fires  in  the  house, 
those  in  the  hall  and  in  the  kitchen. 

At  last,  while  the  master  was  out  farming,  Ned  at 
school,  and  the  mistress  and  all  her  maids  engaged  in 
the  unsavoury  occupation  of  making  candles,  by  re- 
peated dipping  of  rushes  into  a  caldron  of  melted 
fat,  after  the  winter's  salting,  she  escaped  under  pre- 
text of  attending  to  the  hall  fire,  and  kneeling  beside 
the  glowing  embers,  she  held  the  paper  over  it,  and  soon 
saw  pale  yellow  characters  appear  and  deepen  into  a  sort 
of  brown  or  green,  in  which  she  read,  "  My  little  jewel 


XX.]  WIXGFIELD  MANOK.  289 

must  share  the  ring  with  none  less  precious.  Yet  be 
not  amazed  if  commendations  as  from  me  be  brought 
thee.  Jewels  are  sometimes  useful  to  dazzle  the  eyes 
of  those  who  shall  never  possess  them.  Therefore 
seem  not  cold  nor  over  coy,  so  as  to  take  away  all 
hope.  It  may  be  much  for  my  service.  Thou  art 
discreet,  and  thy  good  guardians  will  hinder  all  from 
going  too  far.  It  might  be  well  that  he  should  deem 
thee  and  me  inclined  to  what  they  oppose.  Be  secret. 
Keep  thine  own  counsel,  and  let  them  not  even  guess 
what  thou  hast  here  read.  So  fare  thee  well,  with 
my  longing,  yearning  blessing." 

Cicely  hastily  hid  the  letter  in  the  large  house- 
wifely pocket  attached  to  her  girdle,  feeling  excited 
and  important  at  having  a  real  secret  unguessed  by 
any  one,  and  yet  experiencing  some  of  the  reluctance 
natural  to  the  pupil  of  Susan  Talbot  at  the  notion  of 
acting  a  part  towards  Babington.  She  really  liked 
him,  and  her  heart  warmed  to  him  as  a  true  friend  of 
her  much-injured  mother,  so  that  it  seemed  the  more 
cruel  to  delude  him  with  false  hopes.  Yet  here  was 
she  asked  to  do  a  real  service  to  her  mother  ! 

Poor  Cis,  she  knelt  gazing  perplexed  into  the 
embers,  now  and  then  touching  a  stick  to  make  them 
glow, till  Xat,the  chief  of  "the  old  blue  bottles  of  serving- 
men,"  came  in  to  lay  the  cloth  for  dinner,  exclaiming, 
"  So,  Mistress  Cis !  Madam  doth  cocker  thee  truly, 
letting  thee  dream  over  the  coals,  till  thy  face  be  as 
red  as  my  Lady's  new  farthingale,  while  she  is  toiling 
away  like  a  very  scullion." 


vol.  r. 


290  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

A   TANGLE. 

It  was  a  rainy  November  afternoon.  Dinner  was  over, 
the  great  wood  fire  had  been  made  up,  and  Mistress 
Talbot  was  presiding  over  the  womenfolk  of  her  house- 
hold and  their  tasks  with  needle  and  distaff.  She 
had  laid  hands  on  her  unwilling  son  Edward  to  show 
his  father  how  well  he  could  read  the  piece  de  resistance 
of  the  family,  Fabyan's  Chronicle ;  and  the  boy,  with 
an  elbow  firmly  planted  on  either  side  of  the  great  folio, 
was  floundering  through  the  miseries  of  King  Stephen's 
time ;  while  Mr.  Talbot,  after  smoothing  the  head 
of  his  largest  hound  for  some  minutes,  had  leant  back 
in  his  chair  and  dropped  asleep.  Cicely's  hand  tardily 
drew  out  her  thread,  her  spindle  scarcely  balanced  itself 
on  the  floor,  and  her  maiden  meditation  was  in  an  in- 
active sort  of  way  occupied  with  the  sense  of  dulness 
after  the  summer  excitements,  and  wonder  whether  her 
greatness  were  all  a  dream,  and  anything  would  happen 
to  recall  her  once  more  to  be  a  princess.  The  kitten  at 
her  feet  took  the  spindle  for  a  lazily  moving  creature, 
and  thought  herself  fascinating  it,  so  she  stared  hard, 
with  only  an  occasional  whisk  of  the  end  of  her  striped 
tail ;  and  Mistress  Susan  was  only  kept  awake  by  her 
anxiety  to  adapt  Diccon's  last  year's  jerkin  to  Ned's  use. 


XXI. ]  A  TAXGLE.  291 

Suddenly  the  dogs  outside  bayed,  the  dogs  inside 
pricked  their  ears,  Ned  joyfully  halted,  his  father  uttered 
the  unconscious  falsehood,  "  I'm  not  asleep,  lad,  go  on," 
then  woke  up  as  horses'  feet  were  heard ;  Ned  dashed 
out  into  the  porch,  and  was  in  time  to  hold  the  horse 
of  one  of  the  two  gentlemen,  who,  with  cloaks  over  their 
heads,  had  ridden  up  to  the  door.  He  helped  them 
off  with  their  cloaks  in  the  porch,  exchanging  greetings 
with  William  Cavendish  and  Antony  Babington. 

"  Will  Mrs.  Talbot  pardon  our  riding-boots  V*  said 
the  former.  "  We  have  only  come  down  from  the 
Manor-house,  and  we  rode  mostly  on  the  grass." 

Their  excuses  were  accepted,  though  Susan  had 
rather  Master  William  had  brought  any  other  com- 
panion. However,  on  such  an  afternoon,  almost  any 
variety  was  welcome,  especially  to  the  younger  folk, 
and  room  was  made  for  them  in  the  circle,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  hospitality  of  the  time,  a  cup  of  canary 
fetched  for  each  to  warm  him  after  the  ride,  while 
another  was  brought  to  the  master  of  the  house  to 
pledge  them  in — a  relic  of  the  barbarous  ages,  when 
such  a  security  was  needed  that  the  beverage  was  not 
poisoned. 

Will  Cavendish  then  explained  that  a  post  had 
come  that  morning  to  his  stepfather  from  Wingfield, 
having  been  joined  on  the  way  by  Babington  (people 
always  preferred  travelling  in  companies  for  security's 
sake),  and  that,  as  there  was  a  packet  from  Sir  Balf 
Sadler  for  Master  Richard,  he  had  brought  it  down, 
accompanied  by  his  friend,  who  was  anxious  to  pay  his 
devoirs  to  the  ladies,  and  though  Will  spoke  to  the 
mother,  he  smiled  and  nodded  comprehension  at  the 
daughter,  who  blushed  furiously,  and  set  her  spindle 
to  twirl  and  leap  so  violently,  as  to  make  the  kitten 


292  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

believe  the  creature  had  taken  fright,  and  was  going  to 
escape.  On  she  dashed  with  a  sudden  spring,  in- 
volving herself  and  it  in  the  flax.  The  old  watch-dog 
roused  himself  with  a  growl  to  keep  order,  Cicely  flung 
herself  on  the  cat,  Antony  hurried  to  the  rescue  to 
help  her  disentangle  it,  and  received  a  fierce  scratch 
for  his  pains,  which  made  him  start  back,  while  Mrs. 
Talbot  put  in  her  word.  "  Ah,  Master  Babington,  it  is 
ill  meddling  with  a  cat  in  the  toils,  specially  for  men 
folk  !  Here,  Cis,  hold  her  fast  and  I  will  soon  have 
her  free.      Still,  Tib  ! 

Cicely's  cheeks  were  of  a  still  deeper  colour  as  she 
held  fast  the  mischievous  favourite,  while  the  good 
mother  untwisted  the  flax  from  its  little  claws  and 
supple  limbs,  while  it  winked,  twisted  its  head  about 
sentimentally,  purred,  and  altogether  wore  an  air  of 
injured  innocence  and  forgiveness. 

"  I  am  afraid,  sir,  you  receive  nothing  but  damage 
at  our  house,"  said  Mrs.  Talbot  politely.  "  Hast  drawn 
blood  ?  Oh  fie  !  thou  ill-mannered  Tib  !  Will  you 
have  a  tuft  from  a  beaver  to  stop  the  blood  ? " 

"  Thanks,  madam,  no,  it  is  a  small  scratch.  T 
would,  I  would  that  I  could  face  truer  perils  for  this 
lady's  sake  ! " 

"  That  I  hope  you  will  not,  sir,"  said  Eichard,  in  a 
serious  tone,  which  conveyed  a  meaning  to  the  ears  of 
the  initiated,  though  Will  Cavendish  only  laughed,  and 
said, 

"  Our  kinsman  takes  it  gravely !  It  was  in  the 
days  of  our  grandfathers  that  ladies  could  throw  a 
glove  among  the  lions,  and  bid  a  knight  fetch  it  out 
for  her  love." 

"  It  has  not  needed  a  lion  to  defeat  Mr.  Babington," 
observed  Ned,  looking  up  from  his  book  with  a  sober 


XXI.]  A  TAXGLE.  293 

twinkle  in  his  eye,  which  set  them  all  laughing,  though 
his  father  declared  that  he  ought  to  have  his  ears 
boxed  for  a  malapert  varlet. 

Will  Cavendish  declared  that  the  least  the  fair 
damsel  could  do  for  her  knight-errant  was  to  bind  up 
his  wounds,  but  Cis  was  too  shy  to  show  any  disposi- 
tion so  to  do,  and  it  was  Mrs.  Talbot  who  salved  the 
scratch  for  him.  She  had  a  feeling  for  the  motherless 
youth,  upon  whom  she  foreboded  that  a  fatal  game 
might  be  played. 

"When  quiet  was  restored,  Mr.  Talbot  craved  license 
from  his  guests,  and  opened  the  packet.  There  was  a 
letter  for  Mistress  Cicely  Talbot  in  Queen  Mary's  well- 
known  beautiful  hand,  which  Antony  followed  with 
eager  eyes,  and  a  low  gasp  of  "Ah  !  favoured  maiden," 
making  the  good  mother,  who  overheard  it,  say  to  her- 
self, "  Methinks  his  love  is  chiefly  for  the  maid  as 
something  appertaining  to  the  Queen,  though  he  wots 
not  how  nearly.  His  heart  is  most  for  the  Queen  her- 
self, poor  lad." 

The  maiden  did  not  show  any  great  haste  to  open 
the  letter,  being  aware  that  the  true  gist  of  it  could 
only  be  discovered  in  private,  and  her  father  was 
studying  his  own  likewise  in  silence.  It  was  from 
Sir  Ealf  Sadler  to  request  that  Mistress  Cicely  might 
be  permitted  to  become  a  regular  member  of  the  house- 
hold. There  was  now  a  vacancy  since,  though  Mrs. 
Curll  was  nearly  as  much  about  the  Queen  as  ever,  it 
was  as  the  secretary's  wife,  not  as  one  of  the  maiden 
attendants  ;  and  Sir  Ealf  wrote  that  he  wished  the  more 
to  profit  by  the  opportunity,  as  he  might  soon  be  dis- 
placed by  some  one  not  of  a  temper  greatly  to  consider 
the  prisoner's  wishes.  Moreover,  he  said  the  poor  lady 
was  ill  at  ease,  and  much  dejected  at  the  tenor  of 


294  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

her  late  letters  from  Scotland,  and  that  she  had  said 
repeatedly  that  nothing  would  do  her  good  but  the 
presence  of  her  pretty  playfellow.  Sir  Ealf  added 
assurances  that  he  would  watch  over  the  maiden  like 
his  own  daughter,  and  would  take  the  utmost  care 
of  the  faith  and  good  order  of  all  within  his  house- 
hold. Curll  also  wrote  by  order  of  his  mistress  a  formal 
application  for  the  young  lady,  to  which  Mary  had 
added  in  her  own  hand,  "  I  thank  the  good  Master 
Eichard  and  Mrs.  Susan  beforehand,  for  I  know  they 
will  not  deny  me." 

Eefusal  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  a  mother  who 
had  every  right  to  claim  her  own  child ;  and  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  to  fix  the  time  for  setting  off : 
and  Cicely,  who  had  by  this  time  read  her  own  letter, 
or  at  least  all  that  was  on  the  surface,  looked  up  trem- 
ulous, with  a  strange  frightened  gladness,  and  said, 
"  Mother,  she  needs  me." 

"  I  shall  shortly  be  returning  home,"  said  Antony, 
"  and  shall  much  rejoice  if  I  may  be  one  of  the  party 
who  will  escort  this  fair  maiden." 

"  I  shall  take  my  daughter  myself  on  a  pillion,  sir," 
said  Eichard,  shortly. 

"  Then,  sir,  I  may  tell  my  Lord  that  you  purpose  to 
grant  this  request,"  said  Will  Cavendish,  who  had  ex- 
pected at  least  some  time  to-  be  asked  for  deliberation, 
and  knew  his  mother  would  expect  her  permission  to 
be  requested. 

"  I  may  not  choose  but  do  so,"  replied  Eichard ;  and 
then,  thinking  he  might  have  said  too  much,  he  added, 
*  It  were  sheer  cruelty  to  deny  any  solace  to  the  poor 
lady." 

"  Sick  and  in  prison,  and  balked  by  her  only  son," 
added  Susan,  "  one's  heart  cannot  but  ache  for  her." 


XXI.]  A  TANGLE.  295 

"  Let  not  Mr.  Secretary  Walsingham  hear  you  say 
so,  good  madam,"  said  Cavendish,  smiling.  In  Lon- 
don they  think  of  her  solely  as  a  kind  of  malicious 
fury  shut  up  in  a  cage,  and  there  were  those  who  looked 
askance  at  me  when  I  declared  that  she  was  a  gentle- 
woman of  great  sweetness  and  kindness  of  demeanour. 
I  believe  myself  they  will  not  rest  till  they  have  her 
blood  ! " 

Cis  and  Susan  cried  out  with  horror,  and  Babington 
with  stammering  wrath  demanded  whether  she  was  to  be 
assassinated  in  the  Spanish  fashion,  or  on  what  pretext 
a  charge  could  be  brought  against  her.  "  Well,"  Caven- 
dish answered,  "  as  the  saying  is,  give  her  rope  enough, 
and  she  will  hang  herself."  Indeed,  there's  no  doubt 
but  that  she  tampered  enough  with  Throckmorton's 
plot  to  have  been  convicted  of  misprision  of  treason, 
and  so  she  would  have  been,  but  that  her  most  sacred 
Majesty,  Queen  Elizabeth,  would  have  no  charge  made 
against  her. 

"  Treason  from  one  sovereign  to  another,  that  is  new 
law !"  said  Babington. 

"  So  to  speak,"  said  Eichard ;  "  but  if  she  claim  to 
be  heiress  to  the  crown,  she  must  also  be  a  subject. 
Heaven  forefend  that  she  should  come  to  the  throne  !" 

To  which  all  except  Cis  and  Babington  uttered  a 
hearty  amen,  while  a  picture  arose  before  the  girl  of 
herself  standing  beside  her  royal  mother  robed  in  velvet 
and  ermine  on  the  throne,  and  of  the  faces  of  Lady 
Shrewsbury  and  her  daughter  as  they  recognised  her, 
and  were  pardoned. 

Cavendish  presently  took  his  leave,  and  carried  the 
unwilling  Babington  off  with  him,  rightly  divining  that 
the  family  would  wish  to  make  their  arrangements 
alone.     To  Eichard's  relief,    Babington    had    brought 


296  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

him  no  private  message,  and  to  Cicely's  disappoint- 
ment, there  was  no  addition  in  sympathetic  ink  to  her 
letter,  thongh  she  scorched  the  paper  brown  in  trying 
to  bring  one  out.  The  Scottish  Queen  was  much  too 
wary  to  waste  and  risk  her  secret  expedients  without 
necessity. 

To  Eichard  and  Susan  this  was  the  real  resignation 
of  their  foster-child  into  the  hands  of  her  own  parent. 
It  was  true  that  she  would  still  bear  their  name,  and 
pass  for  their  daughter,  but  that  would  be  only  so  long 
as  it  might  suit  her  mother's  convenience ;  and  instead 
of  seeing  her  every  day,  and  enjoying  her  full  con- 
fidence (so  far  as  they  knew),  she  would  be  out  of 
reach,  and  given  up  to  influences,  both  moral  and 
religious,  which  they  deeply  distrusted ;  also  to  a  fate 
looming  in  the  future  with  all  the  dark  uncertainty 
that  brooded  over  all  connected  with  Tudor  or  Stewart 
royalty. 

How  much  good  Susan  wept  and  prayed  that  night, 
only  her  pillow  knew,  not  even  her  husband ;  and  there 
was  no  particular  comfort  when  my  Lady  Countess 
descended  on  her  in  the  first  interval  of  fine  weather, 
full  of  wrath  at  not  having  been  consulted,  and  dis- 
charging it  in  all  sorts  of  predictions  as  to  Cis's  future. 
No  honest  and  loyal  husband  would  have  her,  after 
being  turned  loose  in  such  company;  she  would  be 
corrupted  in  morals  and  manners,  and  a  disgrace  to  the 
Talbots;  she  would  be  perverted  in  faith,  become  a 
Papist,  and  die  in  a  nunnery  beyond  sea ;  or  she  would 
be  led  into  plots  and  have  her  head  cut  off;  or  pressed 
to  death  by  the  peine  forte  et  dure. 

Susan  had  nothing  to  say  to  all  this,  but  that  her 
husband  thought  it  right,  and  then  had  a  little  vigor- 
ous advice  on  her  own  score  against  tamely  submitting 


XXI.]  A  TANGLE.  297 

to  any  man,  a  weakness  which  certainly  could  not  be 
laid  to  the  charge  of  the  termagant  of  Hardwicke. 

Cicely  herself  was  glad  to  go.  She  loved  her 
mother  with  a  romantic  enthusiastic  affection,  missed 
her  engaging  caresses,  and  felt  her  Bridgefield  home 
eminently  dull,  flat,  and  even  severe,  especially  since 
she  had  lost  the  excitement  of  Humfrey's  presence, 
and  likewise  her  companion  Diccon.  So  she  made  her 
preparations  with  a  joyful  alacrity,  which  secretly 
pained  her  good  foster-parents,  and  made  Susan  almost 
ready  to  reproach  her  with  ingratitude. 

They  lectured  her,  after  the  fashion  of  the  time,  on 
the  need  of  never  forgetting  her  duty  to  her  God  in 
her  affection  to  her  mother,  Susan  trusting  that  she 
would  never  let  herself  be  led  away  to  the  Eomish 
faith,  and  Eichard  warning  her  strongly  against  untruth 
and  falsehood,  though  she  must  be  exposed  to  cruel 
perplexities  as  to  the  right — "  But  if  thou  be  true  to 
man,  thou  wilt  be  true  to  God,"  he  said.  "  If  thou  be 
false  to  man,  thou  wilt  soon  be  false  to  thy  God  like- 
wise." 

"  We  will  pray  for  thee,  child,"  said  Susan.  "  Do 
thou  pray  earnestly  for  thyself  that  thou  mayest  ever 
see  the  right." 

"  My  queen  mother  is  a  right  pious  woman.  She 
is  ever  praying  and  reading  holy  books,"  said  Cis. 
"  Mother  Susan,  I  marvel  you,  who  know  her,  can  speak 
thus." 

"  Nay,  child,  I  would  not  lessen  thy  love  and  duty 
to  her,  poor  soul,  but  it  is  not  even  piety  in  a  mother 
that  can  keep  a  maiden  from  temptation.  I  blame  not 
her  in  warning  thee." 

Eichard  himself  escorted  the  damsel  to  her  new 
home.     There  was  no  preventing  their  being  joined  by 


298  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Babington,  who,  being  well  acquainted  with  the  road, 
and  being  also  known  as  a  gentleman  of  good  estate, 
was  able  to  do  much  to  make  their  journey  easy  to 
them,  and  secure  good  accommodation  for  them  at  the 
inns,  though  Mr.  Talbot  entirely  baffled  his  attempts  to 
make  them  his  guests,  and  insisted  on  bearing  a  full 
share  of  the  reckoning.  Neither  did  Cicely  fulfil  her 
mother's  commission  to  show  herself  inclined  to  accept 
his  attentions.  If  she  had  been  under  contrary  orders, 
there  would  have  been  some  excitement  in  going  as  far 
as  she  durst,  but  the  only  effect  on  her  was  embarrass- 
ment, and  she  treated  Antony  with  the  same  shy  stiff- 
ness she  had  shown  to  Humfrey,  during  the  earlier  part 
of  his  residence  at  home.  Besides,  she  clung  more 
and  more  to  her  adopted  father,  who,  now  that  they 
were  away  from  home  and  he  was  about  to  part  with 
her,  treated  her  with  a  tender,  chivalrous  deference, 
most  winning  in  itself,  and  making  her  feel  herself  no 
longer  a  child. 

Arriving  at  last  at  Wingfield,  Sir  Balf  Sadler  had 
hardly  greeted  them  before  a  messenger  was  sent  to 
summon  the  young  lady  to  the  presence  of  the  Queen 
of  Scots.  Her  welcome  amounted  to  ecstasy.  The 
Queen  rose  from  her  cushioned  invalid  chair  as  the 
bright  young  face  appeared  at  the  door,  held  out  her 
arms,  gathered  her  into  them,  and,  covering  her  with 
kisses,  called  her  by  all  sorts  of  tender  names  in  French 
and  Scottish. 

"  0  ma  mie,  my  lassie,  ma  fille,  mine  ain  wee  thing, 
how  sweet  to  have  one  bairn  who  is  mine,  mine  ain, 
whom  they  have  not  robbed  me  of,  for  thy  brother, 
ah,  thy  brother,  he  hath  forsaken  me !  He  is  made  of 
the  false  Darnley  stuff,  and  compacted  by  Knox  and 
Buchanan  and  the  rest,  and  he  will  not  stand  a  blast 


XXI.]  A  TANGLE.  299 

of  Queen  Elizabeth's  wrath  for  the  poor  mother  that 
bore  him.  Ay,  he  hath  betrayed  me,  and  deluded 
me,  my  child ;  he  hath  sold  me  once  more  to  the 
English  loons  !  I  am  set  faster  in  prison  than  ever, 
the  iron  entereth  into  my  soul.  Thou  art  but  daughter 
to  a  captive  queen,  who  looks  to  thee  to  be  her  one 
bairn,  one  comfort  and  solace." 

Cicely  responded  by  caresses,  and  indeed  felt  her- 
self more  than  ever  before  the  actual  daughter,  as  she 
heard  with  indignation  of  James's  desertion  of  his 
mother's  cause ;  but  Mary,  whatever  she  said  herself, 
would  not  brook  to  hear  her  speak  severely  of  him. 
"  The  poor  laddie,"  she  said,  "  he  was  no  better  than 
a  prisoner  among  those  dour  Scots  lords,"  and  she  de- 
scribed in  graphic  terms  some  of  her  own  experiences 
of  royalty  in  Scotland. 

The  other  ladies  all  welcomed  the  new-comer  as 
the  best  medicine  both  to  the  spirit  and  body  of  their 
Queen.  She  was  regularly  enrolled  among  the  Queen's 
maidens,  and  shared  their  meals.  Mary  dined  and 
supped  alone,  sixteen  dishes  being  served  to  her,  both 
on  "  fish  and  flesh  days,"  and  the  reversion  of  these  as 
well  as  a  provision  of  their  own  came  to  the  higher 
table  of  her  attendants,  where  Cicely  ranked  with  the 
two  Maries,  Jean  Kennedy,  and  Sir  Andrew  Melville. 
There  was  a  second  table,  at  which  ate  the  two  secre- 
taries, Mrs.  Curll,  and  Elizabeth  Curll,  Gilbert's  sister, 
a  most  faithful  attendant  on  the  Queen.  As  before, 
she  shared  the  Queen's  chamber,  and  there  it  was  that 
Alary  asked  her,  "  Well,  mignonne,  and  how  fares  it 
with  thine  ardent  suitor  ?  Didst  say  that  he  rode 
with  thee?" 

"  As  far  as  the  Manor  gates,  madam." 

"  And  what  said  he  ?     Was  he  very  pressing  ?5' 


300  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

"Nay,  madam,  I  was  ever  with  my  father — Mr. 
Talbot." 

"And  he  keeps  the  poor  youth  at  arm's  length. 
Thine  other  swain,  the  sailor,  his  son,  is  gone  off  once 
more  to  rob  the  Spaniards,  is  he  not  ? — so  there  is  the 
more  open  field." 

"  Ay  !  but  not  till  he  had  taught  Antony  a  lesson." 

The  Queen  made  Cis  tell  the  story  of  the  en- 
counter, at  which  she  was  much  amused.  "So  my 
princess,  even  unknown,  can  make  hearts  beat  and 
swords  ring  for  her.  Well  done  !  thou  art  worthy 
to  be  one  of  the  maids  in  Perceforest  or  Amadis  de 
Gaul,  who  are  bred  in  obscurity,  and  set  all  the  knights 
a  sparring  together.  Tourneys  are  gone  out  since  my 
poor  gude-father  perished  by  mischance  at  one,  or  we 
would  set  thee  aloft  to  be  contended  for." 

"  0  madame  m&re,  it  made  me  greatly  afraid,  and 
poor  Humfrey  had  to  go  off  without  leave-taking,  my 
Lady  Countess  was  so  wrathful." 

"  So  my  Lady  Countess  is  playing  our  game,  is  she  ! 
Backing  Babington  and  banishing  Talbot  ?  Ha,  ha," 
and  Mary  again  laughed  with  a  merriment  that  rejoiced 
the  faithful  ears  of  Jean  Kennedy,  under  her  bed- 
clothes, but  somewhat  vexed  Cicely.  "  Indeed,  madam 
mother,"  she  said,  "  if  I  must  wed  under  my  degree,  I 
had  rather  it  were  Humfrey  than  Antony  Babington." 

"  I  tell  thee,  simple  child,  thou  shalt  wed  neither. 
A  woman  does  not  wed  every  man  to  whom  she  gives 
a  smile  and  a  nod.  So  long  as  thou  bear'st  the  name 
of  this  Talbot,  he  is  a  good  watch-dog  to  hinder  Bab- 
ington from  winning  thee :  but  if  my  Lady  Countess 
choose  to  send  the  swain  here,  favoured  by  her  to  pay 
his  court  to  thee,  -why  then,  she  gives  us  the  best 
chance  we  have  had  for  many  a  long  day  of  holding 


XXI.]  A  TAXGLE.  301 

intercourse  with  our  friends  without,  and  a  hope  of 
thee  will  bind  him  the  more  closely." 

"  He  is  all  yours,  heart  and  soul,  already,  madam." 

"  I  know  it,  child,  but  men  are  men,  and  no  chains 
are  so  strong  as  can  be  forged  by  a  lady's  lip  and  eye,  if 
she  do  it  cunningly.  So  said  my  telle  mere  in  France, 
and  well  do  I  believe  it.  Why,  if  one  of  the  sour- 
visaged  reformers  who  haunt  this  place  chanced  to 
have  a  daughter  with  sweetness  enough  to  temper  the 
acidity,  the  youth  might  be  throwing  up  his  cap  the 
next  hour  for  Queen  Bess  and  the  Eeformation,  unless 
we  can  tie  him  down  with  a  silken  cable  while  he  is 
in  the  mind." 

"  Yea,  madam,  you  who  are  beautiful  and  winsome, 
you  can  do  such  things,  I  am  homely  and  awkward." 

"  Jlort  cle  ma  vie,  child  !  the  beauty  of  the  best  of 
us  is  in  the  man's  eyes  who  looks  at  us.  'Tis  true, 
thou  hast  more  of  the  Border  lassie  than  the  princess. 
The  likeness  of  some  ewe -milking,  cheese -making 
sonsie  Hepburn  hath  descended  to  thee,  and  hath  been 
fostered  by  country  breeding.  But  thou  hast  by  nature 
the  turn  of  the  neck,  and  the  tread  that  belong  to 
our  Lorraine  blood,  the  blood  of  Charlemagne,  and 
now  that  I  have  thee  altogether,  see  if  I  train  thee  not 
so  as  to  bring  out  the  princess  that  is  in  thee ;  and  so, 
good-night,  my  bairnie,  my  sweet  child ;  I  shall  sleep 
to-night,  now  that  I  have  thy  warm  fresh  young  cheek 
beside  mine.     Thou  art  life  to  me,  my  little  one." 


302  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

TUTBURY. 

James  VI.  again  cruelly  tore  his  mother's  heart  and 
dashed  her  hopes  by  an  unfeeling  letter,  in  which  he 
declared  her  incapable  of  being  treated  with,  since  she 
was  a  prisoner  and  deposed.  The  not  unreasonable 
expectation,  that  his  manhood  might  reverse  the  pro- 
ceedings wrought  in  his  name  in  his  infancy,  was 
frustrated.  Mary  could  no  longer  believe  that  he  was 
constrained  by  a  faction,  but  perceived  clearly  that 
he  merely  considered  her  as  a  rival,  whose  liberation 
would  endanger  his  throne,  and  that  whatever  scruples 
he  might  once  have  entertained  had  given  way  to 
English  gold  and  Scottish  intimidation. 

"  The  more  simple  was  I  to  look  for  any  other  in 
the  son  of  Darnley  and  the  pupil  of  Buchanan,"  said 
she,  "  but  a  mother's  heart  is  slow  to  give  up  her 
trust." 

"  And  is  there  now  no  hope  ?"  asked  Cicely. 

"  Hope,  child  ?  Bum  spiro,  spew.  The  hope  of 
coming  forth  honourably  to  him  and  to  Elizabeth  is  at 
an  end.  There  is  another  mode  of  coming  forth,"  she 
added  with  a  glittering  eye, "  a  mode  which  shall  make 
them  rue  that  they  have  driven  patience  to  extremity." 

"By  force  of  arms  ?     Oh,  madam  !"  cried  Cicely. 


XXII.]  TUTBUKY.  303 

"  And  wherefore  not  ?  My  noble  kinsman,  Guise, 
is  the  paramount  ruler  in  France,  and  will  soon  have 
crushed  the  heretics  there  ;  Parma  is  triumphant  in 
the  Low  Countries,  and  has  only  to  tread  out  the  last 
remnants  of  faction  with  his  iron  boot.  They  wait  only 
the  call,  which  my  motherly  weakness  has  delayed,  to 
bring  their  hosts  to  avenge  my  wrongs,  and  restore 
this  island  to  the  true  faith.  Then  thou,  child,  wilt 
be  my  heiress.  We  will  give  thee  to  one  who  will 
worthily  bear  the  sceptre,  and  make  thee  blessed  at 
home.  The  Austrians  make  good  husbands,  I  am  told. 
Matthias  or  Albert  would  be  a  noble  mate  for  thee ; 
only  thou  must  be  trained  to  more  princely  bearing, 
my  little  home-bred  lassie." 

In  spite — nay,  perhaps,  in  consequence — of  these 
anticipations,  an  entire  change  began  for  Cicely.  It 
was  as  if  all  the  romance  of  her  princely  station  had 
died  out  and  the  reality  had  set  in.  Her  freedom  was 
at  an  end.  As  one  of  the  suite  of  the  Queen  of  Scots, 
she  was  as  much  a  prisoner  as  the  rest ;  whereas  before, 
both  at  Buxton  and  Sheffield,  she  had  been  like  a  dog 
or  kitten  admitted  to  be  petted  and  played  with,  but 
living  another  life  elsewhere,  while  now  there  was 
nothing  to  relieve  the  weariness  and  monotony  of  the 
restraint. 

Nor  was  the  petting  what  it  was  at  first.  Mary 
was  far  from  being  in  the  almost  frolicsome  mood  which 
had  possessed  her  at  Buxton ;  her  hopes  and  spirits 
had  sunk  to  the  lowest  pitch,  and  though  she  had  an 
admirably  sweet  and  considerate  temper,  and  was 
scarcely  ever  fretful  or  unreasonable  with  her  attend- 
ants, still  depression,  illness,  and  anxiety  could  not  but 
tell  on  her  mode  of  dealing  with  her  surroundings. 
Sometimes  she   gave  way  entirely,  and  declared  she 


304  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

should  waste  away  and  perish,  in  her  captivity,  and 
that  she  only  brought  misery  and  destruction  on  all 
who  tried  to  befriend  her  ;  or,  again,  that  she  knew 
that  Burghley  and  Walsingham  were  determined  to 
have  her  blood. 

It  was  in  these  moments  that  Cicely  loved  her  most 
warmly,  for  caresses  and  endearments  soothed  her,  and 
the  grateful  affection  which  received  them  would  be 
very  sweet.  Or  in  a  higher  tone,  she  would  trust 
that,  if  she  were  to  perish,  she  might  be  a  martyr  and 
confessor  for  her  Church,  though,  as  she  owned,  the 
sacrifice  would  be  stained  by  many  a  sin ;  and  she 
betook  herself  to  the  devotions  which  then  touched 
her  daughter  more  than  in  any  other  respect. 

More  often,  however,  her  indomitable  spirit  resorted 
to  fresh  schemes,  and  chafed  fiercely  and  hotly  at 
thought  of  her  wrongs ;  and  this  made  her  the  more 
critical  of  all  that  displeased  her  in  Cicely. 

Much  that  had  been  treated  as  charming  and  amus- 
ing when  Cicely  was  her  plaything  and  her  visitor  was 
now  treated  as  unbecoming  English  rusticity.  The 
Princess  Bride  must  speak  French  and  Italian,  perhaps 
Latin;  and  the  girl,  whose  literary  education  had 
stopped  short  when  she  ceased  to  attend  Master 
Sniggius's  school,  was  made  to  study  her  Cicero  once 
more  with  the  almoner,  who  was  now  a  French  priest 
named  De  Preaux,  while  Queen  Mary  herself  heard 
her  read  French,  and,  though  always  good-natured, 
was  excruciated  by  her  pronunciation. 

Moreover,  Mary  was  too  admirable  a  needlewoman 
not  to  wish  to  make  her  daughter  the  same ;  whereas 
Cicely's  turn  had  always  been  for  the  department  of 
housewifery,  and  she  could  make  a  castle  in  pastry  far 
better  than  in  tapestry ;  but  where  Queen  Mary  had 


XXII.]  TUTBUEY.  305 

a  whole  service  of  cooks  and  pantlers  of  her  own,  this 
accomplishment  was  uncalled  for,  and  was  in  fact 
considered  undignified.  She  had  to  sit  still  and  learn 
all  the  embroidery  stitches  and  lace -making  arts 
brought  by  Mary  from  the  Court  of  France,  till  her 
eyes  grew  weary,  her  heart  faint,  and  her  young  limbs 
ached  for  the  freedom  of  Bridgefield  Pleasaunce  and 
Sheffield  Park. 

Her  mother  sometimes  saw  her  weariness,  and 
would  try  to  enliven  her  by  setting  her  to  dance,  but 
here  poor  Cicely's  untaught  movements  were  sure  to 
incur  reproof;  and  even  if  they  had  been  far  more 
satisfactory  to  the  beholders,  what  refreshment  were 
they  in  comparison  with  gathering  cranberries  in  the 
park,  or  holding  a  basket  for  Ned  in  the  apple-tree  ? 
Mrs.  Kennedy  made  no  scruple  of  scolding  her  roundly 
for  fretting  in  a  month  over  what  the  Queen  had  borne 
for  full  eighteen  years. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  poor  Cicely,  "  but  she  had  always  been 
a  queen,  and  was  used  to  being  mewed  up  close  ! " 

And  if  this  was  the  case  at  Wingfield,  how  much 
more  was  it  so  at  Tutbury,  whither  Mary  was  removed 
in  January.  The  space  was  far  smaller,  and  the  rooms 
were  cold  and  damp ;  there  was  much  less  outlet,  the 
atmosphere  was  unwholesome,  and  the  furniture  in- 
sufficient. Mary  was  in  bed  with  rheumatism  almost 
from  the  time  of  her  arrival,  but  she  seemed  thus  to 
become  the  more  vigilant  over  her  daughter,  and  dis- 
tressed by  her  shortcomings.  If  the  Queen  did  not 
take  exercise,  the  suite  were  not  supposed  to  require 
any,  and  indeed  it  was  never  desired  by  her  elder 
ladies,  but  to  the  country  maiden  it  was  absolute 
punishment  to  be  thus  shut  up  day  after  day.  Neither 
Sir   Ealf  Sadler  nor   his   colleague,   Mr.    Somer,  had 

VOL.  I.  X 


306  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

brought  a  wife  to  share  the  charge,  so  that  there  was 
none  of  the  neutral  ground  afforded  by  intercourse 
with  the  ladies  of  the  Talbot  family,  and  at  first  the 
only  variety  Cicely  ever  had  was  the  attendance  at 
chapel  on  the  other  side  of  the  court. 

It  was  remarkable  that  Mary  discouraged  all 
proselytising  towards  the  Protestants  of  her  train,  and 
even  forbore  to  make  any  open  attempt  on  her 
daughters  faith.  "  Cela  viendrd,"  she  said  to  Marie 
de  Courcelles.  "  The  sermons  of  M.  le  Pasteur  will 
do  more  to  convert  her  to  our  side  than  a  hundred 
controversial  arguments  of  our  excellent  Abbe  ;  and 
when  the  good  time  comes,  one  High  Mass  will  be 
enough  to  win  her  over." 

"  Alas  !  when  shall  we  ever  again  assist  at  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  in  all  its  glory !"  sighed  the  lady. 

"  Ah,  my  good  Courcelles  !  of  what  have  you  not 
deprived  yourself  for  me  !  Sacrifice,  ah !  truly  you 
share  it !  But  for  the  child,  it  would  give  needless 
offence  and  difficulty  were  she  to  embrace  our  holy 
faith  at  present.  She  is  simple  and  impetuous,  and 
has  not  yet  sufficiently  outgrown  the  rude  straight- 
forward breeding  of  the  good  housewife,  Madam  Susan, 
not  to  rush  into  open  confession  of  her  faith,  and  then  ! 
oh  the  fracas  !  The  wicked  wolves  would  have  stolen 
a  precious  lamb  from  M.  le  Pasteur's  fold !  Master 
Richard  would  be  sent  for !  Our  restraint  would  be  the 
closer  !  Moreover,  even  when  the  moment  of  freedom 
strikes,  who  knows  that  to  find  her  of  their  own  reli- 
gion may  not  win  us  favour  with  the  English  ?" 

So,  from  whatever  motive,  Cis  remained  unmolested 
in  her  religion,  save  by  the  weariness  of  the  contro- 
versial sermons,  during  which  the  young  lady  con- 
trived to  abstract  her  mind  pretty  completely.     If  in 


XXII.]  TUTBURY.  30  7 

good  spirits  she  would  construct  airy  castles  for  lier 
Archduke ;  if  dispirited,  she  yearned  with  a  homesick 
feeling  for  Bridgefield  and  Mrs.  Talbot.  There  was 
something  in  the  firm  sober  wisdom  and  steady  kind- 
ness of  that  good  lady  which  inspired  a  sense  of  con- 
fidence, for  which  no  caresses  nor  brilliant  auguries 
could  compensate. 

Weary  and  cramped  she  was  to  the  point  of  having 
a  feverish  attack,  and  on  one  slightly  delirious  night 
she  fretted  piteously  after  "  mother,"  and  shook  off  the 
Queen's  hand,  entreating  that  "  mother,  real  mother," 
would  come.  Mary  was  much  pained,  and  declared 
that  if  the  child  were  not  better  the  next  day  she  should 
have  a  messenger  sent  to  summon  Mrs.  Talbot.  How- 
ever, she  was  better  in  the  morning;  and  the  Queen, 
who  had  been  making  strong  representations  of  the 
unhealthiness  and  other  inconveniences  of  Tutbury, 
received  a  promise  that  she  should  change  her  abode 
as  soon  as  Chartley,  a  house  belonging  to  the  young 
Earl  of  Essex,  could  be  prepared  for  her. 

The  giving  away  large  alms  had  always  been  one 
of  her  great  solaces — not  that  she  was  often  permitted 
any  personal  contact  with  the  poor :  only  to  sit  at  a 
window  watching  them  as  they  flocked  into  the  court, 
to  be  relieved  by  her  servants  under  supervision  from 
some  officer  of  her  warders,  so  as  to  hinder  any  surrep- 
titious communication  from  passing  between  them. 
Sometimes,  however,  the  poor  would  accost  her  or  her 
suite  as  she  rode  out ;  and  she  had  a  great  compassion 
for  them,  deprived,  as  she  said,  of  the  alms  of  the 
religious  houses,  and  flogged  or  branded  if  hunger  forced 
them  into  beggary.  On  a  fine  spring  day  Sir  Ealf 
Sadler  invited  the  ladies  out  to  a  hawking  party  on 
the  banks  of  the  Dove,  with  the  little  sparrow  hawks, 


308  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

whose  prey  was  specially  larks.  Pity  for  the  beautiful 
soaring  songster,  or  for  the  young  ones  that  might  be 
starved  in  their  nests,  if  the  parent  birds  were  killed, 
had  not  then  been  thought  of.  A  gallop  on  the  moors, 
though  they  were  strangely  dull,  gray,  and  stony, 
was  always  the  best  remedy  for  the  Queen's  ailments ; 
and  the  party  got  into  the  saddle  gaily,  and  joyously 
followed  the  chase,  thinking  only  of  the  dexterity  and 
beauty  of  the  flight  of  pursuer  and  pursued,  instead 
of  the  deadly  terror  and  cruel  death  to  which  they 
condemned  the  crested  creature,  the  very  proverb  for 
joyousness. 

It  was  during  the  halt  which  followed  the  slaughter 
of  one  of  the  larks,  and  the  reclaiming  of  the  hawk, 
that  Cicely  strayed  a  little  away  from  the  rest  of  the 
party  to  gather  some  golden  willow  catkins  and  sprays 
of  white  sloe  thorn  wherewith  to  adorn  a  beaupot  that 
might  cheer  the  dull  rooms  at  Tutbury. 

She  had  jumped  down  from  her  pony  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  was  culling  the  branch,  when  from  the  copse- 
wood  that  clothed  the  gorge  of  the  river  a  ragged 
woman,  with  a  hood  tied  over  her  head,  came  forward 
with  outstretched  hand  asking  for  alms. 

"  You  may  have  something  from  the  Queen  anon, 
Goody,  when  I  can  get  back  to  her,"  said  Cis,  not  much 
liking  the  looks  or  the  voice  of  the  woman. 

"  And  have  you  nothing  to  cross  the  poor  woman's 
hand  with,  fair  mistress  ?"  returned  the  beggar.  "  She 
brought  you  fair  fortune  once  ;  how  know  you  but  she 
can  bring  you  more  ?" 

And  Cicely  recognised  the  person  who  had  haunted 
her  at  Sheffield,  Tideswell,  and  Buxton,  and  whom  she 
had  heard  pronounced  to  be  no  woman  at  all. 

"I  need  no  fortune   of  your    bringing,"  she  said 


xxil]  tutbuey.  309 

proudly,  and  trying  to  get  nearer  the  rest  of  the  party. 
heartily  wishing  she  was  on,  not  off,  her  little  rough  pony. 

"  My  young  lady  is  proud,"  said  her  tormentor, 
fixing  on  her  the  little  pale  eyes  she  so  much  dis- 
liked. "  She  is  not  one  of  the  maidens  who  would 
thank  one  who  can  make  or  mar  her  life,  and  cast 
spells  that  can  help  her  to  a  princely  husband  or  leave 
her  to  a  prison." 

"  Let  go,"  said  Cicely,  as  she  saw  a  retaining  hand 
laid  on  her  pony's  bridle ;  "  I  will  not  be  beset  thus." 

"And  this  is  your  gratitude  to  her  who  helped  you 
to  lie  in  a  queen's  bosom ;  ay,  and  who  could  aid  you 
to  rise  higher  or  fall  lower  ? " 

"  I  owe  nothing  to  you,"  said  Cicely,  too  angry  to 
think  of  prudence.      "  Let  me  go  ! " 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  not  a  woman's  laugh.  "You 
owe  nothing,  quoth  my  mistress  ?  Not  to  one  who  saw 
you,  a  drenched  babe,  brought  in  from  the  wreck,  and 
who  gave  the  sign  which  has  raised  you  to  your  present 
honours?      Beware!" 

By  this  time,  however,  the  conversation  had  at- 
tracted notice,  and  several  riders  were  coining  towards 
them. 

There  was  an  immediate  change  of  voice  from  the 
threatening  tone  to  the  beggar's  whine ;  but  the  words 
were — "  I  must  have  my  reward  ere  I  speak  out." 

"  What  is  this  ?  A  masterful  beggar  wife  besetting 
Mistress  Talbot,"  said  Mr.  Somer,  who  came  first. 

"  I  had  naught  to  give  her,"  said  Cicely. 

"  She  should  have  the  lash  for  thus  frightening  you," 
said  Somer.  "  Yonder  lady  is  too  good  to  such  vaga- 
bonds, and  they  come  about  us  in  swarms.  Stand 
back,  woman,  or  it  may  be  the  worse  for  you.  Let  me 
help  you  to  your  horse,  Mistress  Cicely." 


310  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Instead  of  obeying,  the  seeming  woman,  to  gain 
time  perhaps,  began  a  story  of  woe ;  and  Mr.  Somer, 
being  anxious  to  remount  the  young  lady,  did  not 
immediately  stop  it,  so  that  before  Cis  was  in  her 
saddle  the  Queen  had  ridden  up,  with  Sir  Ealf  Sadler 
a  little  behind  her.  There  were  thus  a  few  seconds 
free,  in  which  the  stranger  sprang  to  the  Queen's  bridle 
and  said  a  few  hasty  words  almost  inaudibly,  and  as  Cis 
thought,  in  French ;  but  they  were  answered  aloud  in 
English — "  My  good  woman,  I  know  all  that  you  can 
tell  me,  and  more,  of  this  young  lady's  fortune.  Here 
are  such  alms  as  are  mine  to  give  ;  but  hold  your  peace, 
and  quit  us  now." 

Sir  Ealf  Sadler  and  his  son-in-law  both  looked 
suspicious  at  this  interview,  and  bade  one  of  the 
grooms  ride  after  the  woman  and  see  what  became  of 
her,  but  the  fellow  soon  lost  sight  of  her  in  the  broken 
ground  by  the  river-side. 

When  the  party  reached  home,  there  was  an 
anxious  consultation  of  the  inner  circle  of  confidantes 
over  Cicely's  story.  Neither  she  nor  the  Queen  had 
the  least  doubt  that  the  stranger  was  Cuthbert  Lang- 
ston,  who  had  been  employed  as  an  agent  of  hers  for 
many  years  past ;  his  insignificant  stature  and  colour- 
less features  eminently  fitting  him  for  it.  No  con- 
cealment was  made  now  that,  he  was  the  messenger 
with  the  beads  and  bracelets,  which  were  explained  to 
refer  to  some  ivory  beads  which  had  been  once  placed 
among  some  spars  purchased  by  the  Queen,  and  which 
Jean  had  recognised  as  part  of  a  rosary  belonging  to 
poor  Alison  Hepburn,  the  nurse  who  had  carried  the 
babe  from  Lochleven.  This  had  opened  the  way  to 
the  recovery  of  her  daughter.  Mary  and  Sir  Andrew 
Melville  had  always  held  him  to  be  devotedly  faithful, 


XXII.]  TUTBUEY.  311 

but  there  had  certainly  been  something  of  greed,  and 
something  of  menace  in  his  language  which  excited 
anxiety.  Cicely  was  sure  that  his  expressions  con- 
veyed that  he  really  knew  her  royal  birth,  and  meant 
to  threaten  her  with  the  consequences,  but  the  few 
who  had  known  it  were  absolutely  persuaded  that 
this  was  impossible,  and  believed  that  he  could  only 
surmise  that  she  was  of  more  importance  than  an 
archer's  daughter. 

He  had  told  the  Queen  in  French  that  he  was  in 
great  need,  and  expected  a  reward  for  his  discretion 
respecting  what  he  had  brought  her.  And  when  he  per- 
ceived the  danger  of  being  overheard,  he  had  changed 
it  into  a  pleading,  "  I  did  but  tell  the  fair  young  lady 
that  I  could  cast  a  spell  that  would  bring  her  some 
good  fortune.      "Would  her  Grace  hear  it  ?" 

*  So,"  said  Mary,  "  I  could  but  answer  him  as  I 
did,  Sadler  and  Somer  being  both  nigh.  I  gave  him 
my  purse,  with  all  there  was  therein.  How  much 
was  it,  Andrew  ? " 

"  Five  golden  pieces,  besides  groats  and  testers, 
madam,"  replied  Sir  Andrew. 

"  If  he  come  again,  he  must  have  more,  if  it  can 
lie  contrived  without  suspicion,"  said  the  Queen.  "I 
fear  me  he  may  become  troublesome  if  he  guess  some- 
what, and  have  to  be  paid  to  hold  his  tongue." 

"  I  dread  worse  than  that,"  said  Melville,  apart  to 
Jean  Kennedy ;  "  there  was  a  scunner  in  his  een  that 
I  mislikit,  as  though  her  Grace  had  offended  him. 
And  if  the  lust  of  the  penny-fee  hath  possessed  him, 
'tis  but  who  can  bid  the  highest,  to  have  him  fast 
body  and  soul.  Those  lads  !  those  lads  !  I've  seen  a 
mony  of  them.  They'll  begin  for  pure  love  of  the 
Queen  and  of  Holy  Church,  but  ye  see,  'tis  lying  and 


312.>  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

falsehood  and  disguise  that  is  needed,  and  one  way 
or  other  they  get  so  in  love  with  it,  that  they  come  at 
last  to  lie  to  us  as  well  as  to  the  other  side,  and  then 
none  kens  where  to  have  them !  Cuthbert  has  been 
over  to  that  weary  Paris,  and  once  a  man  goes  there, 
he  leaves  his  truth  and  honour  behind  him,  and  ye 
kenna  whether  he  be  serving  you,  or  Queen  Elizabeth, 
or  the  deil  himsel'.  I  wish  I  could  stop  that  loon's 
thrapple,  or  else  wot  how  much  he  kens  anent  our 
Lady  Bride." 


END  OF  VOL.   I. 


1 


